Frannie Lindsay

The Good World
February 23, 2017 Lindsay Frannie

The Good World


but when I painted the deer
I didn’t want to scare her

so I started with the leaves
her slow tongue curled around

then the nearby apples come loose
on their brittling stems

for her alone

I painted even the halfheartedness
of that red then

her’s eyes closing, leaving the sun
to tire by itself

as her lips rolled wetly across
their amiable consonant of eating

then I stopped
for it was her long day’s end

but some apple still glistened

on the tip of my brush

Frannie Lindsay is the author of six volumes of poetry, most recently The Snow’s Wife (CavanKerry Press, 2020) and If Mercy (The Word Works, 2016). She is the winner of the Benjamin Saltman Award, the Perugia Prize, the May Swenson Award, and the Washington Prize. She has held fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Massachusetts Cultural Council. She has taught numerous workshops on the poetry of grief and trauma. She is also a classical pianist.