Who is that creature
and who does he want?
Me, I trust. I do not
attempt to call out his
name for fear he will
tread on me. What do
you believe, he asks.
That we all want to be
alone, I reply, except when
we do not; that the world
was open to my sorrow
and ate most of it; that
today is a gift and I am
ready to receive you.
Source: Poetry (March 2009).
MORE FROM THIS ISSUE
This poem originally appeared in the March 2009 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