5 June 2008 | Vol. 8, No. 2
When I come, called, to the smallish
skylight, where a hornet huddles
in a cedar corner, trapped
by a metal sieve, wind entering
and leaving him, it is
a rough courtship. My gentle
nudges invite him in, but when
after five maybe six tries, my paper
appendages fail. And is it
that flattens him or, his
trust over in an instant? I am
satisfied with the speed of this failed
affair—I want you, no, I don't
want you—like an unrecognizable
leaf, thought vegetable, then weed.
Notes on this piece:
The phrase "rough courtship" comes from Carl Phillips' "The Smell of Hay" in Riding Westward.
About the author:
Karen Lepri's work appeared in Best New Poets 2006. Her historical writing was published in Yards and Gates, a history of women at Harvard. Karen works as an editor in Boston and has a food blog called The Urban Kale.