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Lost in the Forest
I'd given up hope. Hadn't eaten in three
days. Resigned to being wolf meat...
when, unbelievably, I found myself in
a clearing. Two goats with bells
round their necks stared at me:
their pupils like coin slots
in piggy banks. I could have gotten
the truth out of those two,
if goats spoke. I saw leeks
and radishes planted in rows;
wash billowing on a clothesline...
and the innocuous-looking cottage
in the woods with its lapping tongue
of a welcome mat slurped me in.
In the kitchen, a woman so old her sex
is barely discernible pours a glass
of fraudulent milk. I'm so hungry
my hand shakes. But what is this liquid?
"Drink up, sweetheart," she says,
and as I wipe the white mustache
off with the back of my hand:
"Atta girl." Have I stumbled
into the clutches of St. Somebody?
Who can tell. "You'll find I prevail here
in my own little kingdom," she says as
she leads me upstairs--her bony grip
on my arm a proclamation of ownership,
as though I've always been hers.
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Amy Gerstler is a writer living in Los Angeles. Index of Women, a book of her poems, will be published in April by Penguin Random House. She is currently collaborating with Steve Gunderson on a musical play.
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Oh this is marvelously terrifying. What will happen upstairs? I am desperate to know. I think a fine poem has a right to make you desperate with wondering.
Posted by: Clarinda harriss | February 21, 2021 at 02:30 PM
A terrific poem. No surprise, there, and I would second what Clarissa Harriss says above. On February 4th, btw, we ran Aspen Matis's interview with Amy:
https://blog.bestamericanpoetry.com/the_best_american_poetry/2021/02/an-interview-with-amy-gerstler-by-aspen-matis.html
Posted by: David Lehman | February 21, 2021 at 02:43 PM
"I could have gotten
the truth out of those two,
if goats spoke. "
what a good mysterious poem with such a lapping tongue.
Posted by: Grace Cavalieri | February 21, 2021 at 02:46 PM
I've been a fan of Amy Gerstler for many years. Easy to see why with this exemplary poem.
Posted by: Beth Joselow | February 21, 2021 at 03:58 PM
Love this piece. Allegory, sure, but enfoldment, danger, delicious irresolution. "... if goats spoke"!
Posted by: Gerald Fleming | February 21, 2021 at 06:11 PM
Did anyone else start hearing Bernadette Peters in their head, singing "Children Will Listen": "Careful the wish you make, wishes are children" vis a vis "her bony grip/on my arm a proclamation of ownership/as though I've always been hers."
What a pleasure to read this was.
Posted by: Jiwon Choi | February 21, 2021 at 06:12 PM
"Fraudulent Milk" is my new fave band name.
Gorgeous teasing allegory, Amy!
And what's this about a musical?!
Posted by: Jack Skelley | February 21, 2021 at 07:50 PM
This is what hunger does. The poem starts out in past tense, when the speaker is still cogent. The clearing is real, or it just might be the beginning of hallucination. By the time, she leaves reality altogether, she has switched to present tense and sees a reflection of her emaciated self that leads her upstairs. The poem, beautifully crafted, disturbs and sings.
Posted by: Anne Harding Woodworth | February 21, 2021 at 09:42 PM
Wonderfully mysterious and eerie! And a perfect photo that keeps one in the dark woods.
Posted by: Maureen Owen | February 22, 2021 at 11:24 AM
"Lost in the Forest" is a gem plucked by Terence from the poetic diadem worn by Amy Gerstler. Terence's unerring taste shows through his Gerstler selection, and Amy's unerring taste showed through her Winch selection for THE BEST AMERICAN POETRY 2010 volume, for which she was guest editor: "Objects of Spiritual Significance." Terence and Amy see in each other's work what we, as close readers, see in theirs: an abundance of talent. That's hardly a revelation, but it's helpful to say so once in a while.
Posted by: Dr. Earle Hitchner | March 07, 2021 at 02:03 PM
Thank you, my friend, for this characteristically generous
and perceptive comment.
Posted by: Terence Winch | March 07, 2021 at 02:17 PM