Poems & Essays

30 Dec

I Don’t Want to Write Any More Poems

General/Column One Response

Because they don’t do the important things,
the things Life depends on, like cooking dinner 
or emptying the dishwasher. They won’t fold
clothes or fill the car with gas or sit at a desk 
eight hours a day, listening to the boss bark. 
But then I read Moira Egan’s Hot Flash Sonnets
as I wait for the doctor. Suddenly, a chuckle 
is enough to face diagnosis. I wrap words
around my body like a cast, setting what’s broken 
so it can heal. At night, Rae Hoffman Jager stands 
by me as I soothe my son, rocking away the croup 
that seeps through bronchi like an invasive moon
through metal blinds. In this world, poems are 
like women—unseen, the work is often unpraised, 
done ­in dark hours without witness, necessary
as sleep, as blood, as air.

Marissa Glover teaches and writes in Florida, where she is co-editor of Orange Blossom Review and a senior editor at The Lascaux Review. Marissa’s work has been published in Rust + Moth, Sweet, First Things, War, Literature & the Arts, and SWWIM Every Day, among other journals. Follow her on Twitter @_MarissaGlover_.

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1 Comment

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  1. Moira Egan

    December 30, 2019 at 8:35 pm

    Dear Marissa, I am honored to have this mention in such a lovely piece. So glad the HFS have been meaningful (and maybe even useful 🙂 to you. It was laugh or cry, so I did both and wrote some sonnets. Wishing you all the best for the new year and the new decade (!). Cheers, Moira


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