The poet sits in an arroyo contemplating what it means to be alive and human. How New Mexico is that! This gorgeous poem explores that moment and is itself a revelation.
Elizabeth Jacobson will be reading this morning at Sunday Chatter. This poem is from her book, Her Knees Pulled In (Tres Chicas Books, 2012). She is the recipient of the Jim Sagel prize for poetry, and has an MFA in Creative Writing from Columbia University.
In her many years on this land only once has she skated in the arroyo
a very cold early morning following an unusually ambitious winter rain
water frozen, its most passive form
she felt it give way to the sun after it was up only an hour
the air, too, became looser
her scent lifting upward, a pair of coyotes ran for their hole
hundreds of the bluest birds flew off and on and off and on and off
a densely green cedar
the sharp tips of her skates catching in the softening ice
propelling her forward
her thoughts changing from exuberant to austere
her elation shifting, but not dissolving
she does not leave the ice, but sits down on it
fingerfuls brought to her mouth
in this way the water moves into another form
as she remains the past, the present, the future
a body not meant for anything but the making of more bodies
a mind meant for less
the surprise being so much
so very much more
Poetry submissions are welcome. Email firstname.lastname@example.org.