1 Anything cancels everything out. If each point is a singularity, thrusting all else aside for good, “good” takes the form of a throng of empty chairs. Or it’s ants swarming a bone. 2 I’m afraid I don’t love my mother who’s dead though I once – what does “once” mean? – did love her . So who’ll meet me over yonder? I don’t recognize the place names. Or I do, but they come from televised wars.
First published in Shiny, issue 13. Copyright © Rae Armantrout. Appears in Next Life (Wesleyan, 2007). Reprinted with permission of the author.
Rae Armantrout was born in Vallejo, California, in 1947, and was part of the first generation of Language poets on the West Coast. She is the author of Partly: New and Selected Poems, 2001–2015 (Wesleyan University Press, 2016); Itself (Wesleyan University Press, 2015).
Date Published: 2007-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/yonder