Walking: Two Poems by Becky Kennedy

The latest issue of NDQ (86.3/4) went to print yesterday, so start obsessively checking your mail boxes for it maybe over Thanksgiving week. 

To celebrate getting another issue under our belt and the arrival of winter for many parts of the United States, here are two poems by Becky Kennedy. Of all the thousands of lines in this issue of NDQ, these six lines from “I Was Walking” not only stopped me in my reading tracks, but forced me to read them aloud, ingraining them in my memory.

redaction that was its
own austerity of
light, how in the
end there was no
ending to the buried
fields, to the leaves

Check out below both of her poems from the latest issue of NDQ, and remember that NDQ relies on our outstanding contributors, editors, and subscribers to thrive. Please consider submitting to NDQsubscribing, or downloading our previous volume.  For some content from NDQ 86.1/2, click here, and for more from 86.3/4, click here.

I Was Walking

I was walking,
plowing the autumn
sky, blue table
of light and the clouds
that lessened,
provisional and
most alive where
day left night as

I was walking as I
had left you:
redaction that was its
own austerity of
light, how in the
end there was no
ending to the buried
fields, to the leaves

but a scant shift in
weightbearing or the
lightening of the
body of the night
unbound or
the wingdust of
leaves or your
small infinity.

 

Waking to Winter

Woke to sun sliding
across the clean scar,
across the edge of
light that folds into
this stroke of April snow.
How air imagined is
revoked; how the poplars
show their coats and

the willows are consigned
to snow on snow; how
to speak to this alignment
of white on the liquor
of the earth where time
has walked from your life;
how the snow discloses
its fault; how in

the end all is the
world unsignified and
there is no autumn
nor spring and the snow
is its own night and
the road’s hard to gloss
from its dream of trees or
the sun from its sunrise.

~

Becky Kennedy is a linguist and a college professor who lives with her family in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts.  Her work has appeared in a number of journals and in two chapbooks; her poetry has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared on Verse Daily.

 

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