for Francine Conley

She said in a poem “my knees yolk”
and later I thought she meant
the recurved arch of wood
that links the stolid, docile oxen
but the word I first heard was
that moment of unbearable pressure
just before bursting, the delicate
thrust of the tines flooding with gold.

©2000 F.J. Bergmann

"Senses" appeared in Snow Monkey—winter 2004

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