New in April 2016
The Shady Sisters


New in 2014
Acts of Balance


New Historical Novel:
    Queens Never
    Make Bargains


    Questions for
    Midnight Fires


Walking into the Wild
Broken Strings


Nancy's Backstory


Ruth Willmarth


Nancy's Books:
Mad Season
Harvest of Bones
Poison Apples
Stolen Honey
Fire and Ice
Mad Cow     Nightmare
The above 5 novels in print, and now
e-books, Belgrave House.
The Losing


Nancy's Books for Children:
The Pea Soup

Agatha Award 2006
Best Children's/YA Novel
Down the Strings
The Great Circus
    Train Robbery

Agatha Finalist


Make Your Own
Vermonters at
    their Craft


Buy Books
Find an Agent
How I Write
An Interview with
Another Interview
    with Nancy
Brief Bio For Busy Librarians (and other readers)
Contact Nancy

Nancy Means Wright


    I thought it a non-flowering plant,
    the kind you find at the dentist's under
    a plaque of receding gums: it has
    dusty oblong leaves and a woody, stripy
    stem—I've had it, oh, for years
    in my study, forget sometimes to water it
    yet it lives. But just last night
    the room gave off a scent so puissant,
    so lushly-sweet I thought it a dead mouse
    or my son smoking pot but no, it was

    the plant in blossom—a single shoot with
    six spiky pinkish-white blooms
    and globules of gummy juice between as if
    it would suck me up if I tried to pick it!
    By morning the scent was gone.
    I turned to my old keep.
    But then at dusk it filled the whole house
    as though I'd been plunged in
    a jungle jammed with Easter lilies. I
    stood there amazed. Was I dreaming? No,
    I could feel the pinch, I was inching up

    through boulders, sedge and bristle,
    skin thickening, hair sticky with rain—
    and the most incredible thing:
    my head suddenly split into milky buds
    like a dozen plaited snakes!
    I yawned in the dark like a cat unwinding
    out of its daytime nap, rubbing and rubbing
    and rubbing its bulk against the moon,
    embedding its smell in the clouds,
    in the clay—razing the night.

by Nancy Means Wright                   


Published in Comstock Review


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