Frye Art Museum
Sunday, May 3, 2009
As soon as I go to the podium, I want Abe. In my mind, I leave, run to the nursing home to be with him. I don't belong in this space. Something is wrong. I'm supposed to talk about my poem Spouse as Home but I can't speak. I can't look at my notes. What I'm doing is unethical. My body tells me this.