Beth Bachmann


Some would call this heaven – a teenage girl half-naked

in the grass. For all I know, they might be right.


The lighting is soft, mid-morning, hazy enough to blur

the details, so we can fill them in any way we like.


Say, a brunette, barely legal, hidden.

From here, it looks like she’s speechless.



“Heaven” first appeared in American Poetry Review, 37:2.