November 2016
Laurie Byro
philbop@warwick.net
philbop@warwick.net
In 1985, while pursuing a business degree, I unhappily landed in a creative writing class and announced to the group that I thought Walt Whitman was a chain of schools throughout the United States. To my astonishment, I had found my pacing, abandoned prose, and started a poetry circle that has been meeting for 16 years. I recently published a full length book, “Luna.” through Aldrich Press and “Gertrude Stein’s Salon and Other Legends” through Blue Horse Press, thanks to Tobi and Jeff Alfier. I am the Poet in Residence at the West Milford Township Library and despite it all, love New Jersey, and have lived here almost 60 years.
Letter to Walt Whitman
from a nurse who worked alongside, September 22 1864, Washington D.C.
Dear Walter:
Sorry this is late, after I returned home, I went into
a funk, I found out to begin with my Donald had married
another. I know I had promised to tell you about my
safe passage home. But it's now many months, forgive me.
I have not forgotten you and the night I had to tell
another boy that he would manage fine with one leg.
Or that boy whose wife’s letter arrived
announcing a baby girl and the purchase
of a 2nd cow. We worried that he wouldn’t be able
to milk with one hand.
You told them to be glad that a soul hadn’t slipped
through our arms this time. You told the farmer
that the corn would be taller than his baby girl
when he made it home and the sunlight off
the green and gold would not shine as bright
as her eyes, her hair.
You made up stories about a three-legged dog
to get them to sleep and after one of our worst days
and nights, one in which we had no time to eat
you had me remove my shoes.
I sat with my knees under my chin while you rubbed
the tiredness, wiggled ten cramped toes and I
thanked God for every ache.
I haven’t forgotten you, Walter. I needed a rest
from the smell of blood and burnt flesh. I hope
you are eating. I hope you are strong.
Yours affectionately,
Hannah J. Akin
Author's Note: This poem is in a “Marble Notebook” at the Albert Wisner Library. I wrote a book based on this friendship, typed it out and got pictures in an antique store that represented what this woman would have looked like, her sister, her family. It was a lot of fun and helped aspiring “writers” in a community.
Letter to Walt Whitman
from a nurse who worked alongside, September 22 1864, Washington D.C.
Dear Walter:
Sorry this is late, after I returned home, I went into
a funk, I found out to begin with my Donald had married
another. I know I had promised to tell you about my
safe passage home. But it's now many months, forgive me.
I have not forgotten you and the night I had to tell
another boy that he would manage fine with one leg.
Or that boy whose wife’s letter arrived
announcing a baby girl and the purchase
of a 2nd cow. We worried that he wouldn’t be able
to milk with one hand.
You told them to be glad that a soul hadn’t slipped
through our arms this time. You told the farmer
that the corn would be taller than his baby girl
when he made it home and the sunlight off
the green and gold would not shine as bright
as her eyes, her hair.
You made up stories about a three-legged dog
to get them to sleep and after one of our worst days
and nights, one in which we had no time to eat
you had me remove my shoes.
I sat with my knees under my chin while you rubbed
the tiredness, wiggled ten cramped toes and I
thanked God for every ache.
I haven’t forgotten you, Walter. I needed a rest
from the smell of blood and burnt flesh. I hope
you are eating. I hope you are strong.
Yours affectionately,
Hannah J. Akin
Author's Note: This poem is in a “Marble Notebook” at the Albert Wisner Library. I wrote a book based on this friendship, typed it out and got pictures in an antique store that represented what this woman would have looked like, her sister, her family. It was a lot of fun and helped aspiring “writers” in a community.
©2016 Laurie Byro
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