We bought Amish quilts
in Kalona. Or, I bought two.
You hung back, approving,
but disinclined by nature
to purchase cotton and twill
oddments, stars and hexagons.
Yet you did. And paid with
a rare optimism: a love poem.
It turns out I was the one
who did not believe. When
an ecstatic life is taken apart
then re-stitched in increments,
it comes to resemble bad faith,
a set of troubled assumptions.
My daughter sleeps under mine.
And you, who are nowhere now but
in the charged air, you saw it first,
pointed out to me in love the one
bright yellow square, uncanny, unfaded
in the dim one hundred-year-old field.
TODAY IN SLATE
The Ebola Story
How our minds build narratives out of disaster.
The Budget Disaster That Completely Sabotaged the WHO’s Response to Ebola
PowerPoint Is the Worst, and Now It’s the Latest Way to Hack Into Your Computer
The Shooting Tragedies That Forged Canada’s Gun Politics
A Highly Unscientific Ranking of Crazy-Old German Beers
Welcome to 13th Grade!
Some high schools are offering a fifth year. That’s a great idea.
The Actual World
“Mount Thoreau” and the naming of things in the wilderness.