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Di Brandt
 This poetic trace was used in:
Poem 9: Love in the archive
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she asks me which hat i’m wearing, & i’m thinking, how
treacherous, how dangerous this love is, which skirts between
mother & daughter, & lover & lover, & mentor & student, &
sister, & sister, this love which is so real, it lights up the field
of clover we’re walking through, lights up also the twisted
corridors of our hard lives, which are getting easier, now, that
we’re getting older, & yet so poor, it has no name, this love,
no hat to hide our heads under
i’m remembering my first image of you, drowning, how i
wanted to reach out my arm to you, hold you against the
swirling current, pull you out, onto shore
& the way you danced on the sidewalk beside me, on our way
to the art gallery, in midsummer, delighted to be there, & full of
love
& i delighted also, with you, how you’d grown, no longer
drowning, in your flowered skirt, your brown hair no longer
shaven, growing into curls
the hot sun on the clover, the humming of bees, the ache of
this poor love, without a name, our unprotected, unshaven
heads
—for Rachel
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