In a poem one can use the sense of place as an anchor for larger concerns, as a link between narrow details and global realities. Location is where we start from.
- Maxine Kumin
Robert Michael Pyle
Penelope Scambly Schott
With the publication of Windfall: A Journal of Poetry of Place, I am thrilled and honored to be in the company of these and other noted Pacific Northwest poets.
And I especially appreciate the focus editors Bill Siverly and Michael McDowell bring to their twice-yearly journal. In a world papered with publications, Windfall remains unique by emphasizing poetry "written in the Pacific Northwest and which is attentive to the relationships between people and the landscapes in which we live."
My poem has found a home in the Spring 2010 issue.
A Shape Half Gone
It's been a year since I came to this beach, where
where we gathered as sisters, spread blankets and limbs
across warm sand and let the strained sun lull us
while the girls dug trenches, climbed rocks, found
shells the shape of hearts.
A year since I spoke the word, knowing
now how rape divides all time and banter, each
of us sliced by the severity of its cut.
You find heart-shaped stones at every turn.
From walks you return full, love spilling
from hands and pockets.
When I admire the rocks arranged on the mantel
you're surprised I have not found the same.
But they're everywhere, you say.
And I think of fall leaves fading,
the moon crescent against ebb tide.
Everything half gone, while you see plenty.
When I married, the pastor asked me to repeat
"In plenty and in one."
Of course, I thought, but my husband said,
"In plenty and in want."
Is there a difference?
Last year on this beach, I wasn't looking for
rock solid love, wasn't searching for a shape
Instead, your daughter found a heart-shaped shell.
In its center, a perfect hole. No crack or ripple
but smooth, as if just born.
- Drew Myron