By Mark Smith-Soto
More light
is not the way
to deal with shadows,
just giving them edge and temper to slice back
the way
they’ve done since first they tore
from the sun peeking out behind the voluminous high skirts
of summer—
not like in the time
before time could make anything serious happen,
turn tadpoles into troglodytes, fish into flesh
into nightmares
of dust,
back when shape ran like music
and nothing knew how to matter,
when black absence itself
held its breath as
God
scoured heaven for the light switch
that someone lovely
had stashed
from him a while
to fend off all the shadows of the world,
the way only darkness can—
Mark Smith-Soto is Professor Emeritus of Spanish and long-time editor of International Poetry Review at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. He has published four chapbooks as winners or runners-up in various contests and two full-length poetry collections to date, Our Lives Are Rivers (University Press of Florida, 2003), and Any Second Now (Main Street Rag Publishing Co., 2006). His poetry, which has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize three times and won him an NEA Fellowship in Creative Writing in 2006, has appeared in Antioch Review, Kenyon Review, Literary Review, Nimrod, The Sun and many other publications. In 2010, Unicorn Press brought out his work of translation Fever Season, the selected poetry of Costa Rican writer Ana Istarú. His most recent works are Berkeley Prelude: A Lyrical Memoir (Unicorn Press, 2012) and the chapbook Splices (Finishing Line Press, 2013).
This is a poem after my own heart. It is top of the list of poems I wish I’d written.
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