13.4 (Summer 2009)   The 2River View AuthorsPoemsPDFMake a bookArchives2River

Catharina Evans

Coming From the Doctor

A girl I hadn't seen in months catches me by my coat sleeve — catches me
picking at the full orange pill bottle in my pocket —
while walking between the early trees of spring.

She tells me about the day she bought the drugstore shears
that cut her hair to an inch within the skin —
something shudders in the downy air
and the planes of her face blaze yellow—

If I were someone braver, or more abundant —
IÕd lift her up with the wings of this chiming light —
by the rumpled layers of her linen skirt — listen to this —
we are sisters of the same sorrow.

The Nun

She is clear light and bald,
and like my mother, and not.

I did everything wrong,
kept my shoes on too long — looked at her
hand over the soft dove of her mouth —

and she, she is like a thin column of milk
in the throughway, or like a bent petal
at the golden foot of Buddha.

Catharina Evans lives on a New Jersey sheep farm and is a graduate student of English literature
and creative writing. She teaches writing in Queens, New York, but is feeling the pull to leave for
the west. She plans to begin her PhD in 2010. contact