To Define

By LAURIE ROSENBLATT

To settle while trying to say what cannot be said
precisely. As in. We were not entirely finished. 

So. Love. To travel the slick road we scattered with salt. To try
to leave our sweepings under the rug. Moments 

of collision, at times, our only contact. Death a near-miss.
Then a few more years earned by the skin of our teeth.

Roasted chicken I hated but you loved. Another truce
we sought though never found. Difficult to define

our meaning when we disagreed or I digressed.
If the rain falls and falls it may mean 

my tires will hydro-plane on water. Or. That my windows
will be washed clear. It may simply be 

the patter song of being without you that goes on and on.
We lied to protect each other. So. To settle in cells

built from false wishes. To become lonely, tapped-out
without further possibility. To say so long 

and believe it is not forever. So. Flesh of my flesh, I am here
in the house without amends among our leavings. 

No resolution no forgiveness. To define the essential nature
of haunting, these properties of mind encompass 

entire cities. To determine, to lay bare memories unshared.
To lay it all out.

[Purchase Issue 18 here.]

Laurie Rosenblatt is the author of one full-length book of poetry, In Case, and two chapbooks: Blue and A Trapdoor, A Rupture, Something with Kinks. Her collaboration with the painter Richard Raiselis, Cloud 10, was produced by Gallery NAGA in Boston in 2012. Individual poems have appeared in New Ohio Review, Salamander, The Common, Harvard Review, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review and elsewhere. She is an MFA student at the Warren Wilson Program for Writers.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

To Define

Related Posts

Image of a tomato seedling

Talks with the Besieged: Documentary Poetry from Occupied Ukraine  

ALEX AVERBUCH
Russians are already in Starobilsk / what nonsense / Dmytrovka and Zhukivka – who is there? / half a hundred bears went past in the / direction of Oleksiivka / write more clearly / what’s the situation in Novoaidar? / the bridge by café Natalie got blown up / according to unconfirmed reports

A Tour of America

MORIEL ROTHMAN-ZECHER
This afternoon I am well, thank you. / Walking down Main Street in Danville, KY. / The heavy wind so sensuous. / Last night I fell- / ated four different men back in / Philadelphia season lush and slippery / with time and leaves. / Keep your eyes to yourself, yid. / As a kid, I pledged only to engage / in onanism on special holidays.

cover for "True Mistakes" by Lena Moses-Schmitt

Giving the Poem a Body: Megan Pinto interviews Lena Moses-Schmitt

LENA MOSES-SCHMITT
I think sometimes movement can be used to show how thought is made manifest outside the body. And also just more generally: when you leave the house, when you are walking, your thoughts change because your environment changes, and your body is changing. Moving is a way of your consciousness interacting with the world.