I carried the bones of Euterpe*
in Samsonite through security,
their rattle turning heads of guards.
In Taos I unpacked
the barren sticks of calcium,
arranged them in the desert,
an homage to O’Keefe.
Baked fleshless, they lay lifeless
without lyric till, watered by a stream
of words in the desert, sung by La Loba,
the one who brings the dead to life,
the bones of Euterpe rose up
like those summoned by Ezekiel,
ligamented themselves into form,
grew flesh, and leapt. I had to buy
Euterpe a seat for the flight home.
*Euterpe: the muse of lyric poetry
Poetry readings, awards, and book signings have taken Gretchen from Ft. Lauderdale to San Francisco, LA, Chicago, Kansas City, Boston, New York City, Dallas, and Houston. She publishes articles about her travels and leads writing workshops for Florida Center for the Book, an affiliate of the Library of Congress.