I stop writing the poem to fold the clothes. No matter who lives or who dies, I'm still a woman. I'll always have plenty to do. I bring the arms of his shirt together. Nothing can stop our tenderness. I'll… — Tess Gallagher Copy Share Image
When I was a young girl salmon fishing with my father in the Straits of Juan de Fuca in Washington State I used to lean out over the water and try to look past my own face, past the reflection… — Tess Gallagher Copy Share Image
“In daylight we pick up our tinned rations and hike off, every artery and nerve of us, into the rest of our commemorative lives.” — Tess Gallagher Copy Share Image
“Urgent Story" When the oracle said, ‘If you keep pigeons you will never lose home.’ I kept pigeons. They flicked their red eyes over… — Tess Gallagher Copy Share Image
“Don’t move. I like this ledge of loose diamonds waiting to be spilled into the night. Let’s shine awhile without touching. Sensuality is, after… — Tess Gallagher Copy Share Image
I stop writing the poem to fold the clothes. No matter who lives or who dies, I'm still a woman. I'll always have plenty… — Tess Gallagher Copy Share Image
“It's a dangerous mission. You could die out there. You could go on forever.” — Tess Gallagher Copy Share Image
When you hug someone you want it to be a masterpiece of connection, the way the button on his coat will leave the imprint… — Tess Gallagher Copy Share Image
When I was a young girl salmon fishing with my father in the Straits of Juan de Fuca in Washington State I used to… — Tess Gallagher Copy Share Image
the past is not only that which happened but also that which could have happened but did not. — Tess Gallagher Copy Share Image
