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Issue 17 • Spring 2006 • Featured Writer • Poetry
Leo
Maureen Seaton
She came from the direction of conflagration.
She stood near the stove where fire warmed couscous.
It's been ninety days, she said, a good number, a capricious evitability.
(If it was lithium, it was not remission.)
She ran circles around my legs and laughed from the star's core.
She gained weight like a headache.
The south side of her face zoomed in, a plosive.
She compared everything in a flash, she plucked my name.
We need to fix something, she said, we need the Isleys.
She sang gospel the way she sang it in church. Do you know which church?
She said this three times.
We struck a frenzied truce. I said yes yes yes.
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Maureen Seaton's latest collection is Venus Examines Her Breast (Carnegie Mellon University Press), winner of the Publishing Triangle's Audre Lorde Award. She is also the author of Little Ice Age; Furious Cooking, winner of the Iowa Poetry Prize and a Lambda Literary Award; Fear of Subways, winner of the Eighth Mountain Poetry Prize; and The Sea Among the Cupboards, winner of the Capricorn Award and the Society of Midland Authors Award. Her work has appeared in Best American Poetry, The Atlantic Monthly, Paris Review, New Republic, Bloom, and many other journals both on- and off-line. The recipient of an NEA fellowship and two Pushcart prizes, she is Director of Creative Writing at the University of Miami.
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Go To:
Issue 17 or Lodestar Quarterly home page
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