Diane Glancy

“Words -- as I speak or write them -- make a path on which I walk.”

“Solar EclipseEach morningI wake invisible.I make a needlefrom a porcupine quill,sew feet to legs,lift spine onto my thighs.I put on my rib and collarbone.I pin an ear to my head,hear the waxwing's yellow cry.I open my mouth for purple berries,stick on periwinkle eyes.I almost know what it is to be seen.My throat enlarges from anger.I make a hand to hold my pain.My heart a hole the size of the sun's eclipse.I push through the dark circle'stattered edge of light.All day I struggle with one hair after anotheruntil the moon moves from the face of the sunand there is a strange lightas though from a kerosene lamp in a cabin.I pun on a dress,a shawl over my shoulders.My threads knotted and scissors gleaming.Now I know I am seen.I have a shadow.I extend my arms,dance and chant in the sun's new light.I put a hat and coat on my shadow,another larger dress.I put on more shawls and blouses and underskirtsuntil even the shadow has substance”