Aabye's Baby

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KID GLOVES
Dream of the morning finds me
Wearing a pair of
Thick, padded gardening gloves, gripping
Wrought iron of their garden gate.

My last glimpse of her descending
The rugged path, wearing heavy-duty
Rubber gloves, to shield soft paws of hers

For their laying-on-of-hands work.
Between the two of us
It must have drained her.

Spanish grandees sleeping in gloves slathered
With olive oil, to keep fingernails supple
And courtly. Boxers

Disqualified for the ring
Wear the New World cestus,
Knuckle-dusters. Over the course of

Twelve years, she begs to remind me
I alternated between raising
An iron fist to her, and concealing

It in a velvet glove. Till irrespective of whether
I toss in the sponge
Or throw down the gauntlet

Since she went away, three days since
I'm possessed of the notion
Like me, the world has no hold on her, but has lost her.
ANN RIVERS
Ann Rivers has lived on the Aegean island of Hydra, Greece for about 30 years. She published the international quarterly S.H.Y. on the island, completed three esoteric prose titles, translated poetry from the French and the Greek and published three chapbooks. She previously broadcast for two Manhatten radio stations, performed in the theatre, indexed books and worked as an organiser in the Peace Movement. Her latest book Pilgrimage & Early Poems followed a trip to Palestine under the aegis of the University of Haifa for whom she edited the Greek issue of the Palestinian journal As-Sharq. Another poem by the author can be viewed at http://www.nhi.clara.net/spiderx1.htm Front Page
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© Ann Rivers, 2000
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This page last updated: 25th October 2002.