person Heather Knox, three poems

Heather Knox is the author of Dowry Meat (Words Dance Publishing 2015) from which the below poems, with permission, are taken.

book is here:
http://wordsdance.com/dowry-meat-by-heather-knox/

~

TO THE WOMAN WHOSE SUITCASES I BOUGHT ON ETSY

I wonder why in New York
and how the winters were.
E.M.M., I’m the unhappiest I’ve been
and I’m writing because I came here
with your suitcase.
You may be ghost now,
time here is strange, thick –
what fogs the Cascades
from view in the morning.
This is erasure.
Do you remember Albany?
The last place I know you went,
I’d like to think you left
and never looked back.
I wonder why in New York
and whereafter.
Did you crave solitude?
Maybe no one kissed you hello
in Albany. I’ve forgotten
how to fade.
It’s autumn now.
I watch the city turn to night.
A man sleeps on the steps of the church
and I hear someone I love
draw a bath. The stars here flicker
more or I’m closer to the falling.
Do you ever grieve for the living?
I figured out how
but I can’t afford the gas.
I’m looking to the knit
of my sweater
for how to tie a noose
and I mailed myself everything
I love
to see what would be lost.
E.M.M., I’m the unhappiest I’ve been –
I wonder why in New York
and how long the winter,
how to really leave.

~

IF – WHEN

if I was a door once – if the revolving kind – if a tornado – if
lasso me – if bedpost – darlin, if easy ain’t naive – if sundown –
if heist –

                                                                                when you weren’t a fire,
                                                                                we weren’t a flood.

~

ETYMOLOGY

You haven’t written yet. I know the word for the lights that appear
from nowhere when we rub our eyes. I know the word that means
to have a hatred of endings. I know you will write. I know it will be
when I’ve almost forgotten you. I will tell you I am someone’s wife
now. I will want to tell you you can’t have meat without the gristle.
There is probably a word for that, probably a word for the long wait
you don’t know you’re waiting.

4 thoughts on “person Heather Knox, three poems

  1. Pingback: 2 – ISACOUSTIC*

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