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Celia Dropkin (translated from the Yiddish by Faith Jones, Jennifer Kronovet, & Samuel Solomon)
A fear was growing in my heart: I smelled the putrid odor of my grave around me.

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In “A Fear Growing in My Heart,” the speaker fears her oncoming death, finds it ridiculous and sad that while there is silk around her now, there will be none in the grave. But then the speaker says to herself, “your limbs are like limbs carved/from ivory.” This simile speech act not only quells her fear, but also saves her from dying. By transforming herself in words into something fashioned from the materials of another creature, she saves herself.

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Brooke Ellsworth
What if for a moment we stirred that future

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Jennifer Polson Peterson
sad every afternoon of my life. Outside a child runs in the grass. Soon I will appear and call her to me.

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Marianne Boruch
As for the magpies, their livers surely tried to clear, to strain the poison. Fast or slow, the birds, I bet— how many?—flew just fine for a while in screechy loops. Then to fall, to try up again. And failing.

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Alice Fulton
Here in the north of north everything was formed by what ice did to the land, and darkness is redundant.

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Programs like “Poetry Lives Here” are the result of a series of yeses and a village invested in a common goal, group, and ethos. Poetry by living poets reminds us that we live in a world shared by others in real time, and that especially matters during liminal periods marked by uncertainty and isolation. I’m inspired by people—JDC scholars, my community college students, women and children living in shelters— who navigate these waters—however they can—and (to borrow from the great Lucille Clifton) manage to “sail through this to that”.

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Nicole Tong
when I meant Remember.                 You were there.                                  You walked beside me each day.

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