Poem Ending With a Line From Anna Karenina

by Wendy Taylor Carlisle

There are the words and the caul is over the words
and the language we have left blurs
intention the way a life having started out to the grocery store
started out X+Y=Z
blooms out, becomes a field of Indian Paintbrush and grass
in the afternoon
and a hand run across the ribs
and a crisp grin, curling arm hair or even the way a brow
creases in annoyance seems plausible
because some eyelashes are two-to-one thicker than others
and the skin inside an elbow is worth noticing.
There is no way to say this in the same clear language as,
She stepped into the path of the oncoming train.