Don’t feel so bad. Mothers are not supposed to understand it, their daughter’s poetry. Nor are fathers, brothers, and sisters. Only the one who hasn’t arrived yet except in her daydreams is supposed to understand it. The one with the hair as fair and as curly as a girl’s, with the teeth as evenly white as her best pearl necklace, with the eyes black, deep and hypnotic, the one on the stallion named Secret named Rider of Secret, the one who will appear in the row in front of hers, in the morning, right on schedule, the one who will read them once, and like the genius prince of code breakers, happily ever after understand. ////// J.R. Solonche is the author of 29 books of poetry and coauthor of another. He has been nominated for the National Book Award and twice nominated for the Pulitzer Prize. He lives in the Hudson Valley. //////
Lightwood 