Constance, I am sitting, stunned!
I have been editing Spitting Bones and I am trembling at the emotions it has evoked within me.
Waves of tears well up from my gut, and overflow in fear, and then in anger…
and then finally tears that turn to tears of joy.
I do not really know where this poem came from. I awoke on Sunday morning with that phrase
ringing in my ears and I was all discombobulated, but I knew it was a phrase of power and portent and would grow into a poem.
I think this poem will unfold itself to me for a long season. For now, it shimmers as something hard-won and safe,
but glitters as something glinty-eyed and still not tame!
What the heck is going on with this one, Constance? I like it…I fear it…I treasure it.