I’m working on a new one about Haida Gwaii while sucked into the Plath vortex again after finding a volume in a used book store. Not good. As moving as her work is, I wind up feeling weak, pathetic and unworthy. Still, I persist. Surely I must be mad as well.<\/p>\n
SKY BUSTING<\/strong><\/p>\n To the hillbilly born Neither was she popular with him in the marsh, and nuzzling. Her aim ruined, gaze diverted At dusk it was she who saw the foxfires. I’m working on a new one about Haida Gwaii while sucked into the Plath vortex again after finding a volume in a used book store. Not good. As moving as her work is, I wind up feeling weak, pathetic and unworthy. Still, I persist. Surely I must be mad as well. SKY BUSTING To the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[12],"tags":[149,324],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/328"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=328"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/328\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=328"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=328"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=328"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\na cursed monarch who swore
\nthis pothunter could not be her blood
\nwith his short gait, sight, temperament.
\nThey must have abducted her
\nfrom a conclave of columned nobles,
\nthe bastards, and this she declared
\ninto her black lab\u2019s ruff. Unless her peeps
\ntraded her for gasoline in a time of war?
\nSplitting dog hairs, she knew this much;
\nshe would never know.
\nShe must adapt and learn. She scrubs
\nand sweeps though never convincingly,
\nswift clips to the noggin ever reminding her.<\/p>\n
\nstanding as he knelt next to her, shotgun
\nbetween them, instructing her how to squeeze
\nthe trigger slowly, taking the kick in his shoulder,
\ndisgusted at her recoil, terror, the mutt\u2019s whining<\/p>\n
\nby bulrushes and horse tails, her common sense
\noverloaded with the sweet smell of grass
\nand peat loam, its deep, black grave-bed lure.
\nSky busters infuriated him too, those idiot
\nswellheads taking 60-yard shots, crippling birds
\nthat can\u2019t be recovered. Wasting rounds.
\nThey\u2019re no outdoorsmen. <\/em>Same with deer.
\nHe\u2019d never use his 30 ought six
\nat five hundred yards, even with all
\nthat knockdown. He wants to fill his freezer,
\nnot lay the countryside full of rotting game.<\/p>\n
\nOnly she had an ember
\nto light their way through the bog,
\npast the shooting and blasting. Well out of range
\nyet a sitting duck at the table, old man
\ncommanding Quiet, fouling the nest, wounding
\nwith the back of his hand, waiting for her to fall
\ninto place, to find her place. He had not forgotten
\nhis Greek myths, named her Diana for a reason
\nand she was<\/em> his daughter. He didn\u2019t need sons.
\nShe was the warrior, the pilot, the victor.
\nShe would learn. She would believe.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"