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poem



by Lindsay Rockwell



Witness

 

 

We the salt of our skin

we besotted by the moth

the woman the spider trapped

in its own web

we the witness witness

every restless

every current

thunk of newspaper

landing on the porch

day not yet

open every window shut

from the rain the rain

persistent as if in welcome

to some invisible blessing

riding down or between or amidst

sheets of relentless wet

the thing about the moth

the woman the spider

we know them

each in their own circle circling

we recognize their falter

the thing is we can't help ourselves

can we

curiosity a mighty leash

all our not knowing

scuffling down the stairs

in slippers to the porch

wishing we could open a window

wishing we could show our teeth

 


 

Lindsay Rockwell is poet-in-residence for the Episcopal Church of Connecticut. She's recently published, or has work forthcoming in Humana Obscura, Poetry Northwest, Poet Lore, Radar, Spillway, and SWIMM every dayamong others. Her collection, GHOST FIRES, was published by Main Street Rag, April 2023. She’s received fellowships from Vermont Studio Center and Edith Wharton/The Mount residency. Lindsay is also an oncologist.

 

 

 

 

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