Above the willow stalk’s frosted tip
guava juice spills across the sky
so cold the ponds freeze
the turtles who hibernate there
like cherry cordials
in a shut box.
I wanted to show you how to lack
hardness, to curl, jelly-boned into sea-froth
in the safety of an enveloping calcium V
in dark’s gentle blindness.
Embers the red hourglasses
at our backs. I will myself
to soften, to erode you too.
Christine Marshall, Barbara Duffey, and I chose Kim Hyesoon’s “A Hundred-Year-Old Fox,” translated by Don Lee Choi, for a line-by-line response. We read a set of lines and wrote quick, associative responses, embracing a “first-thoughts-best-thoughts” mindset. This intuitive process deepened our connection with the poem and each other. Afterward, we read our drafts aloud and planned to revise the following week.
But when we met, Barbara and Christine were unhappy with their poems, and I was so dissatisfied with mine that I didn’t bring it. Rather than abandon the work, I suggested collaboration—an unexpected shift that honored our communal spirit. They sent me their lines, and I carefully wove them into an assemblage, lightly editing but preserving each voice. As coherence emerged, I chose a line from Barbara’s poem for the title. This process transformed our practice, reinforcing the power of shared creation, adaptability, and trust.
