"Miss January" by Laura Kasischke

I've been reading Laura Kasischke's latest book of poems, Lilies Without, and it's really, really good. I've been cursing out loud as I read it - in a good, "wow, this is so fucking awesome" kind of way. Here's a poem from it. The whole book is this good and better. It's also printed on recycled paper as part of the Green Press Initiative. You should go and get yourself a copy.

Miss January

On Friday, I fell--wearing

boots without treads, fell
from the great stupid height of myself. The boots

of a girl in a magazine, in a blizzard, on me. Or

you might say I leapt

from the cliff of myself,

while across the road a farmer
making peace with emptiness in a field
called out to me, and

my son, amused
and afraid at the same time, asked, Mom,
are you okay?

Of course, I was fine.
Bemirrored, the sky,
and

below me, below

the snow
and the dirt
and the seeds

of the pre-
Columbian flowers
asleep in the ground,
I could hear her clearly:

A woman
in sturdy shoes,

with a broad back (my
new paragon, my

ideal) walking,
steadily, chained
to a wheel.

(Laura Kasischke, from Lilies Without, 2007 Ausable Press)