for Debbie, in time of plague
If, in all of this, I were to sicken
and die, let this be my testament.
Pregnant long ago, I felt you quicken
deep inside, not knowing what that meant.
It meant those fluid years before things thickened
into this, our long estrangerment:
a decade now, no word. Were I to sicken,
die, shall I request such word be sent
to you? If, in all of this, I change
my permanent address, can we arrange
a rendezvous, or must we miss each other
in the night? Nights, I search for sleep;
it’s years now we’ve been playing hide and seek.
My dear, some centuries ago you had a mother. ❖
Kate Adams lives in Mountain View, California.
Previous work has appeared in Centennial Review, Zzyzzyva, and the Sand Hill Review. Her work has won awards from the Massachusetts Artists’ Foundation, in poetry and in fiction. She has come to enjoy the technical and artistic challenges of writing in sonnet forms. Poets of influence include Matthew Arnold, Wallace Stevens, and Gjertrude Schnackenberg.
Previous work has appeared in Centennial Review, Zzyzzyva, and the Sand Hill Review. Her work has won awards from the Massachusetts Artists’ Foundation, in poetry and in fiction. She has come to enjoy the technical and artistic challenges of writing in sonnet forms. Poets of influence include Matthew Arnold, Wallace Stevens, and Gjertrude Schnackenberg.
Latest posts by Kate Adams (see all)
- Human After All - August 24, 2022