THE SLOWEST DANCE<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Last night you raised your hand
\nto speak about the speed of things<\/p>\n
in the film\u2014amazed at how she
\ntakes the time to make tea, iron<\/p>\n
a shirt\u2014because you can\u2019t even
\ntake the time to make a sandwich<\/p>\n
without forgetting to put something
\nelse, anything, between the bread.<\/p>\n
You also spoke of this rush as doing
\nviolence to the self, just a day after<\/p>\n
getting word of your cousin\u2019s suicide.
\nShe was a happy woman, you said,<\/p>\n
and that<\/em> you could not reconcile. This slower than domesticity or death: our in the dark exhaust of a parking garage, still still stillstillstillstillstill still still <\/p>\n Jared Leising<\/a> is the author of a chapbook of poems-The Widows and Orphans of Winesburg, Ohio<\/em>–<\/a>and in 2010, Jared curated the Jack Straw Writers Program.\u00a0<\/a> He’s served as president of the Washington Community College Humanities Association<\/a> and on the Board of Directors for 826 Seattle.\u00a0<\/a> Before moving to Seattle, Jared received his M.F.A. in Creative Writing from the University of Houston. Currently, he’s teaching English at Cascadia Community College and coordinating 826 Seattle’s 2012 adult writing workshop series: “How to Write Like I Do.”<\/a><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" THE SLOWEST DANCE Last night you raised your hand to speak about the speed of things in the film\u2014amazed at how she takes the time to make tea, iron a shirt\u2014because you can\u2019t even take the time to make … Continue reading
\nis what I\u2019m trying to reconcile, a thing<\/p>\n
\nembrace at the end of a day\u2014swaying<\/p>\n
\nlike a Muybridge flipbook\u2014still still<\/p>\n
\nstill still still.<\/p>\n