Bio Note: Since retiring from teaching College French, I’ve lived in New York City dividing my time between poetry and painting. My most recent collection is Iridescent Guest (Deerfield Editions, 2020). Next year, Word Tech Communications will publish Fledgling, a chapbook of sonnets.
My Late Period
Few are the baby lambs I’ve raised or rescued from the brambles. Yet many are the shepherd’s pies I’ve made … one just this afternoon though I’ll admit a lump or so remains to mar the mashed potato crust, which prefigures what I'll say about my painting teacher Peter, who pauses in a song of sharps and flats to suggest I draw a form resembling neither worm nor wig, barn nor bee. That’s hard, I say. Of course, it can be done, but not by me. When I paint, a Thing appears— Abstract is a lack I have, an accidental, and the same with poetry. The more I try to do without familiar metaphor, the more I speak of Grace, the grandmother I never met but heard about. Her lace gloves, tatted by a native nurse, protected only half her fingers. so she never brushed the snow away from her baby’s face… ˆ´ The baby was my mother, who, in turn,…but never mind. The rest is lost.
©2020 Sarah White
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