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From Death

Watching me the way she used to watch
sports games that were not close—

able to sift through the Times, flutter pages
of a crossword puzzle dictionary

with the Sunday magazine spread
before her, #2 pencil in hand.

The sound of commentators audible,
a marching band background

(if it was intercollegiate), not focused
intently—glancing toward the TV,

now me, maybe with more attention
if I drift perilously on a highway

doused in rain and wind
and darkness. But usually,

just aware with a proprietary air—
the way she’d walk into my kitchen,

unplug the toaster,
move it down the counter,

Much closer to the bread
here, dear.

 

Sarah Dickenson Snyder’s full-length collection of poetry, The Human Contract (Aldrich Press), and her chapbook, Notes from a Nomad (Finishing Line Press), are forthcoming in 2017. In May of 2016, she was a 30/30 Poet for Tupelo Press.

 

Issue 8 >