Like An Easter Basket Filled with Candy Eggs
Or a stocking stuffed and hanging—
I want you to know if you are reading this
that I looked forward
to speech class, cutting out pictures
in magazines—station wagons, cigarettes,
signs, and sand—creating a field guide
of “S” sounds to say aloud. I loved
this time because you also had a speech
impediment. I can’t remember
what you were cutting out and gluing
to a sheet of cardboard, but I remember
the sound of slicing scissors and the nearness of you.
In the Blood
We are all grave diggers,
searching for the bottom,
seeking the clink and clang
of a metal shovel on rock
so that we can stop.
No one knows. Nine out of ten
days camouflage works—
we don’t remember, just go along
our merry way buying glazed donuts
for the poetry workshop, finding
the salmon, lime, and cilantro
for dinner that night. But one day
we wander—long for the light
we hope is there at the end,
hold on, hope to breathe in
another day of not knowing
where we end.
Sarah Dickenson Snyder has three poetry collections: The Human Contract; Notes from a Nomad (nominated for the Massachusetts Book Awards 2018); and With a Polaroid Camera, forthcoming in 2019. Recently, her poems have appeared in Artemis, The Sewanee Review, and RHINO.
