POETRY

Take Care

By

Don't die crossing. Not seeing you,
No longer threaded on the same string,
I can't tell the story but I somehow know
there was a sign ("No U-turns") and
a sound of the air like bees, like
weaving. My hand still warm where
yours had been. Then cool. To forage
back the years undesirable, they were
not beautiful. bullying always unoriginal.
But they were kind and we were generous.
I'll gather up what you left: a few unpleasant
recollections, image of the long scar,
the way you loved to pound pegs
into the wall so we could hang things,
how you became the artist on the nail and
the only time I met divinity in a single
threadbare limitless human eye.

Nancy White's first book, Sun, Moon, Salt, won the Washington Prize for Poetry. Her second book, Detour, came out from Tamarack Editions in 2012. Further poems have appeared in The Antioch Review, Black Warrior Review, FIELD, Feminist Studies, Harpur Palate, Ploughshares, Rattle, Seneca Review, Virginia Quarterly Review, and many others. She has taught at St. Ann's School in Brooklyn, Bennington College, and SUNY Adirondack. Her book review column at The Sow's Ear Poetry Review are posted also at her blog, nancywhitepoetry.wordpress.com. Since 2008 she's been involved in the management of the Washington Prize at The Word Works, becoming editor and later president of that organization based in Washington DC. Promoting other writers' work provides a weird vicarious thrill, whether it's as teacher, reviewer, editor, or publisher.

I can't tell the story but I somehow know
there was a sign ("No U-turns") and
a sound of the air like bees, like
weaving.