Daniel Coudriet

 

Poem with Milk Pooling Beside an Empty Bed

Because I always visit museums alone & in the posture of Poe
watching his mother die each night her throat bursting
with pig’s blood, on stage, 
                                                   then the coughs, her lap
filling with berries their redness 
of fingertips.

 

 

Daniel Coudriet lives with his wife and son in Richmond, Virginia, and in Carcarañá, Argentina.  His poems have appeared in VerseDenver QuarterlyAmerican Letters & CommentaryCrazyhorseThe Iowa ReviewHarvard ReviewConjunctions, and elsewhere.  His translations of the Argentinean poet Oliverio Girondo have appeared in American Poetry ReviewMassachusetts ReviewFascicle, and elsewhere.

 

 

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