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Infusion Suite

Infusion Suite Claudia Emerson poetr y She puts on the protective gown for this one, sky-blue, crepe paper­like. She asks again for me to verify name, date of birth, checking what I say against the information on the small plastic bag she shows to me before hanging it upside down, its contents impossibly clear, benign-looking as water coursing the clearest bore-- umbilical-like that almost invisible line. The trees outside the tall window appear still full with summer, crows' flight--more like drunken tumbling--something to see while I agree that yes, yes, this is me. The poplars outside this place an old stand, their trunks rise, slender nudes that sway in a rush of wind and sun. At the trees' edge, someone has hung feeders to distract us from ourselves, and so I don't look at her when she says to the screen of her computer that my blood numbers are good, better, in fact, than last time. Hour after hour, we watch birds circle the plastic cylinders of sunflower seed, cling to the caged cakes of suet swinging from tall, hooked poles--not unlike ours, I like to think, their source of flight gravity-measured-- a given, too--and we are all radiant with http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

Infusion Suite

Emerson, Claudia
The Missouri Review , Volume 36 (3) – Oct 17, 2013
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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © The Curators of the University of Missouri.
ISSN
1548-9930
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Abstract

Claudia Emerson poetr y She puts on the protective gown for this one, sky-blue, crepe paper­like. She asks again for me to verify name, date of birth, checking what I say against the information on the small plastic bag she shows to me before hanging it upside down, its contents impossibly clear, benign-looking as water coursing the clearest bore-- umbilical-like that almost invisible line. The trees outside the tall window appear still full with summer, crows' flight--more like drunken tumbling--something to see while I agree that yes, yes, this is me. The poplars outside this place an old stand, their trunks rise, slender nudes that sway in a rush of wind and sun. At the trees' edge, someone has hung feeders to distract us from ourselves, and so I don't look at her when she says to the screen of her computer that my blood numbers are good, better, in fact, than last time. Hour after hour, we watch birds circle the plastic cylinders of sunflower seed, cling to the caged cakes of suet swinging from tall, hooked poles--not unlike ours, I like to think, their source of flight gravity-measured-- a given, too--and we are all radiant with

Journal

The Missouri Review – University of Missouri

Published: Oct 17, 2013

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