My mother, teaching me how to protect my body: “When a man touches you here, yell I am a body that will bear a child.” How was I, a child, to understand that as the sanctity of my body. How was I to know to say, the body without that potential is also whole
I fell on an incline, talus, tibia, fibula, calcaneal tendon mangled, red circuits ruptured, body facing east toward a little town named Climax and then New York where I once danced in a circle of girls
Claudia Emerson, who died in December 2014, had come to be known as a poet capable of revealing startling discoveries inside quiet, quotidian circumstances. Her poems are set mostly in Southern rural and small-town scenes, moments in ordinary lives that would normally elude anyone else’s attention.