May 2017
Sarah White
sarahwhitepages@gmail.com
sarahwhitepages@gmail.com
I live in New York City where I enjoy art classes, plays, and concerts. Lucky me. Since retiring as a professor of French language and literature, I have published four poetry collections. The fifth, to one who bends my time, forthcoming from Deerbrook Editions later this year, will contain the following poems.
The Last Day Of May
As a child, I learned
that eons had gone by when I
did not exist.
My absence-to-come
would be endless.
Worse, I would be gone
while millions lived on.
I heard them in my head:
Ha-ha! You’re dead!
Why bother
going to school
or buying clothes?
One day, I wore new argyles
to a class on Rabelais’ Pantagruel
and the Renaissance Art of Dying Well.
An old poet lies
on his deathbed and says,
as calm as you please:
Today
is the last day of May
and of me…
The end of breath,
the grace of wit,
a trace of rhyme--
a bend in time.
Upper West Side Love Song
Meet me at Empanada Joe’s.
Except, it’s closed.
It used to be on Broadway
and a hundred ten.
It won’t be there again.
All the sauces in the place
tasted the same.
I don’t know where to meet you.
Maybe at a wake or a séance.
Maybe Joe will open up another place.
I hear there’s one in Chelsea
though nobody goes.
All the sauces on the menu
taste the same.
Empanada Joe is gone. The sign
says CLOSED FOR RENOVATION
but it’s closed for good.
Let’s try another neighborhood.
I’d meet you anywhere.
I wouldn’t care
if all the sauces in the world
tasted the same.
(from The New York Times Metropolitan Diary)
©2017 Sarah White
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