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An Abecedarian for Barrenness Chera Hammons (bio) At first, the thought of being lonely didn'tbother me; after all, the world already has its share of children. And there is no good reason to mete out adisease like mine. I will not contain more than my own death. Every morning, lines of blackbirds risefrom the sumacs in the canyon and enter the most golden hours of their days, while red-tailedhawks hunt the birds that fall behind. In the evenings, I peel pomegranates, the heart-redjuice staining my thumbnail. One taste of fruit can keep someone from paradise, so I'm careful.Light falls in slats on the floor beneath the windows; it moves with the earth's turning, and then it's gone. I will leavenothing behind me here but waste and offal, bone, knuckled worry, forgotten words, thepeel of what I have consumed to live. Through the quiet of the starsick night, I sometimesrealize I am the ghost that haunts this house, my own sighing is the cold draft under the doors,the blur in the back of every mirror is me. Under dark trees, the waiting deer are luminous spirits sheddingvelvet antlers. I can ask a machine anything, so I ask it End Page 70 What is the range of honeybees? Miles away, bees are singing of thexeric flowers of my yard, thorny sweetness dragged by heaven's yellow eye. Could I want what burns and unsights me? Could we, unwittingzealots, call such startling indifference God? End Page 71 Chera Hammons Chera Hammons is a recipient of the Southwest Book Award through PEN Texas and the Helen C. Smith Memorial Award through the Texas Institute of Letters. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in Beloit Poetry Journal, Poetry, Rattle, The Southern Review, The Sun, and elsewhere. Her most recent collection, Maps of Injury (2020), is available through Sundress Publications. A fourth collection, Salvage List, is forthcoming through Belle Point Press in 2025. Copyright © 2024 Pleiades and Pleiades Press
Chera Hammons (Fri,) studied this question.