Description
Earthwhere was written under the sign of disaster–a house fire, a global pandemic, the health crisis of a spouse, the stillbirth of my niece. In many of the poems, I address a “you,” a regular feature of lyric poetry, partly because it powerfully conjures a singular other, the “to whom” of address, our most precious loved ones. It made writing the poems feel like receiving the gift of their attention, like they were with me. Also, it made the act of writing an act of preservation, for poems enact and elicit emotion, connection. They’re all love letters, really.
TAKE ME INSTEAD
For Dobie
A Golden Shovel From Ada Limon’s “The Last Thing”
After E left, you and L & L went upstairs to your room while I
stayed downstairs to babysit H and the puppy (who I can’t
get to stop barking at every little thing). I think it would help
if the curtains were up. I brought home pizza and wings. It
was 47 degrees this morning, and I was feeling smug, so I
looked up how hot it was going to be in Texas today (98). Will
you need me to take your friend’s home later? That’s fine. I never
heard back from you about what you want me to tell people to get
you for your birthday. Do you remember that summer fighting over
Nerf guns with your little cousins? They were hoarding darts and making
you upset. I said, they’re just kids, and you said, But I’m a kid! Everything
feels so all at once. The night the house burned down. So much smoke. Such
intensity. When H & I made it to the neighbor’s yard, there were a
few seconds I thought you were still in the house & I was yelling as big
as I could make my voice. I was calling God. I was making a deal.
