{"id":106,"date":"2009-07-29T11:28:51","date_gmt":"2009-07-29T16:28:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?p=106"},"modified":"2009-07-29T11:28:51","modified_gmt":"2009-07-29T16:28:51","slug":"pris-campbell","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/2009\/07\/pris-campbell\/","title":{"rendered":"Pris Campbell"},"content":{"rendered":"

Proper Wife<\/strong>
\nPris Campbell, August 2009<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>She serves dinner precisely at six,
\ncorned beef every Wednesday,
\nwears sensible shoes, never
\nruns in the rain or collapses
\nhelplessly over a silly joke.
\nShe submits once a month
\nto his groping,
\ngown on,
\narms to her side,
\nlegs barely spread.
\nShe doesn’t move
\n(that would be unseemly),
\nwon’t kiss him,
\nwon’t turn on the lights,
\nlook into his eyes.
\nShe’s glad when his jerk
\nsays it’s over, marks
\nthe date on her mental calendar.
\nShe’s never known what it’s like
\nto fly, holding him close, their
\nbodies moving beneath them
\nor hear angels sing
\nwhen she wakes in the morning.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Hourglass
\nPris Campbell, August 2009<\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>When we were young,
\nwe never did put a name to it,
\nthis thing between us.<\/p>\n

I let it fall away,
\nslide through my fingertips
\nlike fine-grained sand.<\/p>\n

You scooped it into a pouch,
\nkept it safe in your pocket.<\/p>\n

Youth no longer gilds
\nme with favor.
\nVultures circle my shoulder blades.<\/p>\n

I tell you why you should reject me,
\nmake detailed lists.<\/p>\n

You take out the pouch,
\npour sand till it fills my hands.<\/p>\n

Look, you say, flicking away the greedy birds,
\nit glitters as gold in the sunlight,
\nmade even more precious
\nby the passage of time.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

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\u00a0<\/p>\n

Among other poetry journals and anthologies, Pris Campbell’s poetry has appeared in Chiron Review, Cliffs: Soundings, MiPo (digital and print, most recently the OCHO Twitter issue), Wild Goose Review, Blue Fifth Review, and The Dead Mule. She was featured poet in In The Fray and Empowerment4Women in 2008 and in From East to West in 2009. She also was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2008. Her third chapbook, Hesitant Commitments, was released in late 2008 by Lummox Press (www.lummoxpress.com<\/span><\/a>) as part of its Little Red Book series. She is in the Best of Little Red Book series, as well as The Best of Boxcar Poetry Review anthologies. Formerly a Clinical Psychologist and avid sailor, she was sidelined by CFIDS in 1990 and now lives in the greater West Palm Beach, FL with her husband.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Proper Wife Pris Campbell, August 2009 She serves dinner precisely at six, corned beef every Wednesday, wears sensible shoes, never runs in the rain or collapses helplessly over a silly joke. She submits once a month to his groping, gown on, arms to her side, legs barely spread. She doesn’t move (that would be unseemly), […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-106","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-august-2009"],"yoast_head":"\nPris Campbell - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/2009\/07\/pris-campbell\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Pris Campbell - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Proper Wife Pris Campbell, August 2009 She serves dinner precisely at six, corned beef every Wednesday, wears sensible shoes, never runs in the rain or collapses helplessly over a silly joke. 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