A woman is sitting in a doorway of a thatched-roof house. Paul is painting her as part of the background for The Great Tree. Up close, I realize the woman is my mother and she's in a trance. In the single eye in her head she sees the wall that separates her life from her death. Her first memory is red and cold, wet and cold. Her last is like the first. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: ALMA BELL TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CHORUS OF CLOUD-MAIDENS: STROPHE, FR. THE CLOUDS by ARISTOPHANES THE DIVISION OF POLAND by EDWIN ARNOLD VIA LUCIS by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN |