Poetry | September 01, 1997
Prairie
Pamela Greenberg
High atop a playground’s fuchsia frog
a girl spits pomegranate seeds
into the mammoth armful of meadow.
The field troubles her with longing
and culmination of longing:
the yellow spikeweed at her feet
and the unreachable furthermost prairie.
Spurring the ungiving flanks, she thinks
of bucking into the wildest West.
She could swallow fullthroat the horizon,
and never be seen again. Then again
she could strangle in this sweetness:
the smell of milk thistle and eucalyptus,
the firetower glinting, the wheeze
of hay fever caught up in her throat.
If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.
Want to read more?
Subscribe TodaySEE THE ISSUE
SUGGESTED CONTENT
Poetry
May 17 2022
5 Poems
You Will Be Ready / Total Hysterectomy There will be days in this medical experience when you feel like you’re the only citizen of Pluto, landed right in the… read more
Poetry
May 16 2022
5 Poems
Tree of Life Translated from the Slovenian by Brian Henry I was born in a field of grain and snapped my fingers. White chalk crossed the green blackboard. Dew… read more
Poetry
May 16 2022
5 Poems
Counterweight In the fall, the garden folds in on itself—grand stalk of kale on the ground like a wilted chandelier, still green tomatoes that missed their chance at red… read more