How I Might Sound if I Left Myself Alone

By Lisa Russ Spaar
Turning to watch you leave,
I see we must always walk toward

other loves, river of   heaven
between two office buildings.

Orphaned cloud, fish soup poppling,
book spined in the open palm. Unstoppable light.

I think it is all right.
Or do tonight, garden toad

a speaking stone,
young sound in an old heart.

Annul the self? I float it,
a day lily in my wine. Oblivion?

I love our lives,
keeping me from it.

Source: Poetry (February 2013).


This poem originally appeared in the February 2013 issue of Poetry magazine

February 2013
 Lisa Russ Spaar


Lisa Russ Spaar's most recent book of poems is Vanitas, Rough (December 2012).  A collection of her essays, The Hide-and-Seek Muse:  Annotations of Contemporary Poetry, is due out in March 2013.  Her awards include a Guggenheim Fellowship, the Weinstein Award for Poetry, the Library of Virginia Award, and a Rona Jaffe Award for Emerging Women Writers. Spaar is a professor at the University of Virginia.

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Living, Life Choices, The Mind, Love, Heartache & Loss

Poetic Terms Free Verse

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