Was it you or your absence that sagged
beside me in the bed last night?

Clock stabbing the dark with green,
the sting of ozone lingering,

I turned to face your back, to call
your name. No sound

would leave my lips. Only
the rain rippling the roof. Only

the wind rubbing the walls
through closed windows.

Hadaway, Meredith Davies. Fishing Secrets of the Dead. Word Press, Cincinnati, 2005

This is one of my favorite books of poetry.  My (surrogate) grandfather gave it to me when I graduated high-school, as he knew she was a local poet.   They are full of the natural landscape of the Eastern Shore of MD where I am from, and capture the area well.  Many of the poems focus on the death of the poet’s husband, and the process of mourning. Since my grandfather passed away I have read this book frequently, and it has helped me through that grief, as well as the losses that have followed. 

Photo: Moot Point, Choptank River sunrise Dec. 2014


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