(Obsolete) Mare, the April Fragment Poem

(Obsolete) Mare, the April Fragment Poem

     Poem by Helen Losse
     Art by Beebe Barksdale-Bruner
     Audio reading of the poem by Nic Sebastian at Whale Sound

The water beneath my feet
rises, and a loon calls from darkness.
When flooding reaches my neck, I panic.
And I’m gagging.

Could I die in a river this blue—
seeing whitewater shoals, thinking of heaven—
puking & choking & hoping? I survey the damage:
Even shadows are washed away.

Gypsy-hands hold ancient rivers,
but some of the wounds I bear won’t
pass the test of time. Some of my wounds might
hurry me toward eternity.

Is it darker than before? The river rocks look
forgettable as do the trees. In the hills are six graves
I piled flowers upon. And I know responding with
silence is one of the most effective tools in truth-finding.

No, I’m not Sylvia Plath. This is no suicide note.
Really. I’ve drunk no scuppernong wine,
sniffed no mercaptan, no model glue.

I’m not a fortune teller who forgot the importance
of phases of the moon, a teenager without the angst,
a young mother without her neonate,
the Carpenter from Bethlehem whose followers

all went home. I’m the one who still believes
and like Mary chooses to “ponder [so many] things
in [my] heart.” I’m plan to ride this day to the fullest,
my life bittersweet. I’m going to make Monday count

as something wider than a place holder
stuck between two other days.

- refers from the word teenager in The Interrogator’s Last Question by Martin Ott


  1. LOVE this. Well done! :)

  2. Wonderful wonderful, Helen! So very moving and powerful.

  3. Really engaging poem that begs to be read over and over.

  4. Thanks so much for commenting everyone! Helen is one of our superstars :)

  5. Oh, I am glad you shared this link. This is one of my new favorite poets! Love the imagery and word choice.

  6. Helen and Jesse – I love this, especially the progression, the images at the end….

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