Abstract
Wallace Stevens House Maureen Sherbondy I thought if I followed the same pathyou long ago wandered, passingby Thirteen Ways engraved on different stones,then somehow your voice would become inscribedinside my head—a poetry tattoo of sorts.But when I stand near your two-story house,I realize insurance lingo is our only commonality.No blackbird hovers abovethe suburban roof. Instead, the banalityof daily life flies across my face:Who pays the bills? Who rakes the leaves?No proof of your skilled verselingering in the eaves of this dwelling. [End Page 244] Maureen Sherbondy Durham, North Carolina Copyright © 2022 Johns Hopkins University Press
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