By Heather Christle Heather Christle
Today you find yourself guilty
as the rim you split
an egg against
You press charges
You spell out your name
like the letters are medals
for good conduct in a bad war
The night moves in with you
into your room
until even your sleep
is not your own
Through the window
the grass tells you
to give up
and you are trying
but on the other hand
things keep you:
the moon, the cars, cars
You undress yourself
more deeply down
like this is the way
to get to the future
You let the darkness
medically examine you
So much can’t be
put back together
To burn the house down
to burn the house up
It’s the same problem
in any direction
You’re matter
You turn on the light

Source: Poetry (October 2013).


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

October 2013
 Heather   Christle


Heather Christle was born in Wolfeboro, New Hampshire, and earned a BA from Tufts University and an MFA from the University of Massachusetts-Amherst. She is the author of The Difficult Farm (2009); The Trees The Trees (2011), which won the Believer Poetry Award; and What Is Amazing (2012). Christle described her third collection in an interview: “What Is Amazing begins somewhat exuberantly, moves through domesticity and desire, . . .

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Poems by Heather Christle

Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Living, Life Choices, Sorrow & Grieving, The Mind, Time & Brevity

POET’S REGION U.S., New England

Poetic Terms Free Verse

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