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 Contents | December 2002 More on poetry from The Atlantic Monthly. |
The Workout
Each autumn, in the time-honored tradition,by Roberta Spear ..... Helen breaks a switch from the dusky heart of an olive tree and trots her sows down the furrows. It is trotting, not lounging, that makes prime porker poundage, that stirs the blood and flushes the blackbirds out of the vineyards, that beats the deep drum of the earth with hard, pointed toes, quickening the pulse. And it is trotting that renders the ladies lean and marketable. A fly warbles into the soft flap of a sow's ear: The mad pigs of Sarlat ran amok at the fair, drank all the wine, trampled the poor auctioneer, tra-la... But Helen slaps their rumps, charging them up one row, down another, until they are winded and smiling. The sun stands high above, and their shadows unfurl behind them like crisp blue ribbons.
Roberta Spear is the author of three collections of poetry, Silks (1980), Taking to Water (1985), and The Pilgrim Among Us (1991). Copyright © 2002 by The Atlantic Monthly Group. All rights reserved. The Atlantic Monthly; December 2002; The Workout; Volume 290, No. 5; 72. |
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