Lisa Russ Spaar

Magical Thinking

My dog does not question
why I’m beneath my desk.
She senses why I’m upset, statuesque—
the sullen fist striking wall

has sent her here, too.  We share
panic’s wedge, cooped chests interjecting
be your own mother,  protect, protect.
Without, day shortens, the year’s enamel

smelt & gray.  Impressive, how long
an animal can crouch.  Me, knees to chin.
Childhood game:  don’t move.  Tuck within.
Be unseen.  Proximate to chaos,

consider time’s husbandless stare.
Know where love abides.  Send signal flare.

Author: Lisa Russ Spaar

Lisa Russ Spaar is the author/editor of over ten poetry collections and anthologies. Her awards include a Guggenheim Fellowship, a Rona Jaffe Award, and the Library of Virginia Poetry Prize. Her essays have appeared in the New York Times, Washington Post, Chronicle of Higher Education, Los Angeles Review of Books, and elsewhere. She is a professor at the University of Virginia.

Plume: Issue #97 September 2019