Nainai is hunching over a washbasin filled
with steamy red water and a naked chicken, cut open
from the abdomen, feet hanging out of the edge straight,
stained by its own blood and feather. Nainai is cleaning
guts and trimming fat from this rooster that she saw
grow up. An di bao bei ga da hui lai lei, she smiles,
my precious baby is back to me, teeth the color of her brick gate
and wrinkles tying suntanned happy knots. She mumbles
complaints of Ma who bought pricey braised beef
and chicken feet against her will as she chops
the rooster's guts and fat into fine pieces, gathers
the slimy organs onto her left palm, and throws them back
in the chicken coop where they came from. Will you stay
the night with me this time? she asks, watching the hens fight
for the bits of their former lover. I look at the earth and smell
goat milk with sugar, duck egg soup with sesame oil,
and her husky hands on my forehead when she wakes
me up at 4 a.m. to feed that rooster. The knots untie as she walks
away swinging: Don't go so far that I can't touch you anymore.
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Photograph of Claudia Castro Luna and Molly Fisk. two of the funded laureates
"A Textured Map of the Whole Country"

"The Academy of American Poets said on Thursday that it would be able to fund its poet laureate program for the next three years with a $4.5 million grant from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. The academy started the program last year, issuing grants ranging from $50,000 to $100,000 to poets representing states, cities and other regions."

via THE NEW YORK TIMES
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Cover of Mary Ruefle's book, The Most of It.
What Sparks Poetry:
Arda Collins on Mary Ruefle's “The Bench”

"[T]he argument about the bench, like many arguments, is about truth. The participants both believe their bench is the true bench. Despite the argument’s low stakes, it describes the larger philosophical positions of the speaker and the husband. The speaker describes her bench in terms of the eternal; the husband’s bench is mortal." 
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