诗歌一：
It was lying near my back porch
in the gaudy light of morning--
a dove corpse, oddly featherless,
alive with flies.
I stopped,
dustpan in hand, and heard
them purr over their feast.
To leave that there would make some stink!
So thinking hard for all of us,
I scooped it up, heaved it
across the marriage counsellor's fence.
(for William Stafford)
--by Rae Armantrout
诗歌二：
Postcards
--Rae Armantrout
Man in
the eye clinic
rubbing his eye--
too convincing. Like
memory.
My parents' neighbours' house,
backlit,
at the end of their street.
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