I do my best
to keep pointlessness
at bay. But here,
wet above my
knees, I let it fly.
Here, hot and cold,
fingers thick with
thinking, I try to
tie the fly and look
for the net, loosening
the philosophical
knot of why I came
here today, not yet
knowing whether
I’ll free or fry
the rainbows
and browns once
they’re mine.
Source: Poetry (July/August 2008).
MORE FROM THIS ISSUE
This poem originally appeared in the July/August 2008 issue of Poetry magazine
Journalist, essayist, and editor (of the Milford, New Hampshire, weekly newspaper Cabinet), Kathryn Starbuck started writing poems in her 60s. Her first collection, Griefmania, was published in 2006. Her poems have appeared in the New Yorker, Poetry, Sewanee Review, and Best American Poetry 2008.
Though she was a practiced prose writer, it was the experience of grief that led her to writing poetry. After the deaths of her . . .
Continue reading this biography
Poems by Kathryn Starbuck