Every morning I let it all go.
Then it starts coming back,
sometimes blurred, sometimes
stuttering, sometimes suspended
on a linear dartboard that
I try to impale myself upon.
Even when the skylight is leaking,
I look for the peephole
that will ensnare my vision
of things: the boy sashaying
through the mud, the man shaving,
the mother scrubbing shoes
in the driveway. I want to say
that I feel too, that I remember,
and then I forget, and then I notice
that almost all the leaves are off the trees
and on the ground, save my three magnolias.
From Promise (Louisiana State University Press, 2017). Copyright © 2017 by Sally Van Doren. Used with the permission of Louisiana State University Press.
Sally Van Doren
Poet Sally Van Doren was the recipient of the 2007 Walt Whitman Award from the Academy of American Poets
Date Published: 2017-09-21
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/or