Skip to Content

Share

Wish

By
May 1, 2013

Once the bone has been ground up, who, through muslin, would recognize her hand
from a dog’s paw?

Which, black animal leaking beet juice, would better purify the bursting sugar?

I write the tussle of waters and the meeting of clouds
but I want
a wood-soothed room
far
in the depths of towns.

And in the room
an egg.

In the egg
this hand tired
of writing the sea-prison
would find itself a seed
with the breasts the womb
the lips of woman

circling back for
the sweetness of unbeing.

G

Author Image

Born in 1932, French poet and essayist Marie-Claire Bancquart lives in Paris where she is professor emerita at the Paris-Sorbonne University. Her most recent book of poems is Violente vie (Le Castor Astral, 2012). She is the recipient of numerous prizes, including the Prix Supervielle, the Prix Max Jacob, the Grand Prix de la Ville de Lyon, the Grand Prix d’Automne de la Société des Gens de Lettres, and the Prix Robert Ganzo.

Claire Eder’s poems have appeared in or are forthcoming from The Cincinnati Review, Sakura Review, and The Adirondack Review. She lives in Gainesville, Florida, where she is currently pursuing an M.F.A. at the University of Florida.

Readers like you make Guernica possible. Please show your support.

Tagged with:

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterAdd to BufferShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUpon
Submit to redditShare on App.netShare via email