Chitra Ganesh, How to Assemble a Flying Car (detail), 2018, linocut on tan BFK Rives. Courtesy of the artist & Durham Press.
Consolamentum
Its sorrows fit
on the head of a pin little street its chore-doersvisible
through open doors back courtyards openingthe world there
unfolds, inheres and makes truethe sound of it
anyway the milkmaid gone to market the ladywith her list of orders
bow your head say you’re sorry into itthe holy person
evaporated into air brick on brickthe solarium
quiet young marble-throwers bent to taskslike counting
like spelling their names or learning Latinwho’s to say
where knowledge becomes underhue tests itselfand fades
its fine plain-weave linen aglow the streetcontaining umber
a little chalk and lead white the differencebetween this
and a sermon the level of doubtthe bent
figures their pentimento telling usprayer is one
of many ways to work and love like regretis azurite
part cream part lead tin-yellowCarol Ann Davis is the author of the poetry collections Psalm (Tupelo Press, 2007) and Atlas Hour (Tupelo, 2011) and a forthcoming essay collection, The Nail in the Tree: On Art, Violence, and Parenting (Tupelo, 2019). Her work has been published in The Georgia Review, AGNI, The American Poetry Review, The Gettysburg Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. An NEA fellow and finalist for a National Magazine Award, she is professor of English at Fairfield University, where she is founding director of Poetry in Communities, an initiative that brings writing workshops to communities hit by sudden or systemic violence. She lives in Newtown, Connecticut. (updated 4/2019)