The Saint’s First Wife Said

I woke to your face not looking at me
but at the bird that settled on your wrist,
lured by food. Its trust, for once, was rewarded.
You offered the bird everything you had.

I remember.  That is how it began
with us:  You held out your hand; I took it.



From Tug. Copyright © 1999 by G. E. Patterson. Reprinted with permission of the Permissions Company, LLC, on behalf of Graywolf Press.