Judith Skillman
Rift
The drudgery of a house.
Shadows come to tell of supper.
Pan full of grease in water, sloughing.
Bits of egg collect in the drain, yellow.
Hardened is the name of woman.
All hands and arms.
Hangnails come to tell.
Chores for the charwoman.
See her bend into soap.
Lean away from leisure.
In her stained rag a map of the world.
Countries never seen.
Meals brought by uniformed servants.
The silken, inner layers of a word called pretty.
Paired with white or red?
Once they asked that.
Once in the charcuterie she purchased veal.
Carried the butchered animal over cobblestones.
Her Achilles heal burned.
A time of injury.
As in times of peace one hears of wars.
Judith Skillman is is the author of Premise of Light (Tebot Bach, 2018). Her poems have appeared in Shenandoah, Seneca Review, Cimarron Review, Zyzzyva, and other journals. She is the recipient of grants from Artist Trust and the Academy of American Poets. She is a faculty member at Richard Hugo House in Seattle, Washington.
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