Spring Equinox Poem

We normally only publish poems and stories in our magazine, but in celebration of spring, we bring you this poem from Sarah Green:


There goes today’s lead dove again, cooing

like it was hired by the equinox to raise morale, and

the sky really does look clear, true, more like spring.

But that same dove froze this morning; I saw it drag itself,

weak, toward weak sun. Its echo rebounds hard,

a basketball stinging concrete in a schoolyard, from low

to high and back again, each iteration out of tune with

the last one. Here comes the countryside. When I was

a kid on summer nights I’d hear men yell and break bottles,

but I never saw them. Seven flights up, a pie plate balanced

on our sill. The berries cooled. We added some ice cream.

Now I guess I’m grown? When I hear a dove sing

like a bruise I put myself on that dove’s side. I like to think

that it knows me. If only it sometimes would not know

me! If only “its side” had municipal resources, if I could just

sleep one easy night in my new bed without some dove

reminding me like I’m a dove, time to move along, we don’t

own, it says, the straw we brought with us, or struts, or sounds.

Sarah Green lives in Athens, Ohio, where she is a 3rd year doctoral candidate in Creative Writing at Ohio University. Her poetry has appeared in Best New Poets 2012, Mid-American Review, FIELD, Gettysburg Review, H_ngm_n, Forklift Ohio, Inter/rupture, Leveler, Redivider, and elsewhere. A singer-songwriter with the Americana duo Heartacre, she is the recipient of a 2010 Iguana grant and a 2009 Pushcart Prize.

Thank you for visiting our blog! Please visit our magazine, www.memorious.org, for original poetry, fiction, interviews and art song.

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