That Woman
To the Memory of Lorine Niedecker (1903-1970)


She is not
shadow, that woman.

She is not
the mist. She is

vapor at the blue
edge of flame.

~

That woman
walks.

The wind
walks with her.

They talk;
they speak

of nothing,
everything.

~

Yes, sky,
that woman says,

I will give you
what I am and

what I'm not.
How much of it

do you want?

~

The days,
that woman

says, are
numbered

sorrows.
They come

and go.
They come.

And go.

~

The thing about hope,
that woman says, is not

hope, but harvest.

~

That woman
knew

silence

was
almost enough.

~

Her solitude.
What she saw

in sadness.
If I could half-

believe there's
nothing I need,

wouldn't she
agree with me?

~

When we walk
that woman asks

Why must you race
your unhappiness?

~

These conversations
with that woman who's

not there – so like the wind. 
What is it she teaches?

~

Your fierce darkness 
does not offend

the light. Give back
and take and let

yourself be lifted.

~

Scrape at
solitude

as with a
spatula,

taking the
last of the

last of the
cream from the

bowl.

~

She is the motion
she makes, that woman,
the gesture, the sound.

She is the silence
on holy ground.

~

All this shake
of day and night,
that woman says;

all the lay
of shade and light;
all the bounding

silence; the green
streak of earth;
yes, the water;

yes, the sky;
all of everything
today. Amen.

"That Woman" originally appeared as a chapbook from The Friends of Lorine Niedecker:  http://www.lorineniedecker.org/