By Laura Da'
In Westport the small French cart
of the voyageurs earned the name mule-killer.
Once Shawnee was the lingua franca
up and down the Mississippi,
then mollassi became molasses.
For the bringing of the horse
it is said much can be forgiven: burn
of Missouri whiskey and aching molars,
lunatic fevers of cholera,
even those men
born astride. Rare beast to share
that weight on such fine and slender legs.
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Monday was our coldest day so far this winter, though we didn't get any more snow. We had a quiet morning -- well, as quiet as a morning can be with kittens pouncing all over us -- then went downtown with Adam and my parents. Our intention was to meet Annmarie at the Renwick Gallery for its famous Wonder exhibition, but she texted us to tell us that the line was more than an hour long, and since it was about 20 degrees outside, we decided instead to meet up at the National Gallery of Art, where we saw the excellent Power and Pathos: Bronze Sculpture of the Hellenistic World (which also has a very good movie narrated by Liev Schreiber) and ate snacks in the cafe.
Annmarie had previous dinner plans, but the rest of us went back to my parents' for leftover lasagna (my sister's recipe, and I got to talk to her on the phone while the lasagna was heating). We also watched some of the Australian Open and Adam attempted to explain all of The Wheel of Time to us. When we came home, we watched tonight's Supergirl which I disliked pretty intensely ("I have to tell you how I feel and try to bully you into dating me because otherwise I might become a sociopath" -- ugh), then caught up on Madam Secretary which I pretty much always love, and then watched Graham Norton on which Eddie Redmayne and Jennifer Lawrence took turns self-mocking.
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