It Would Be Here

by Christina Murphy

It would be here, the light soaring,
A late frost browned the early peonies.
All day rain seemed woven into air, imminent
The difficult way—wet air, rain oncoming.

Some water travels underground
In rivers that flow for miles
Think of it this way as
In the almost ever present.

The water running off our skin
As we rise from the steaming bath
On and off, holding us in that stillness between
Everything gets around—a poison we all drink from

No other ending, no law but this one
Consider history as a cloud or the spread of roots
A dream of water, the surface swept
What new world is this?


*This poem is composed of first lines from Section I and last lines from Section II of the poems by James McCorkle in Evidences.


Christina Murphy lives and writes in a 100 year-old Arts and Crafts style house along the Ohio River. Her poetry is an exploration of consciousness as subjective experience, and her most recent work appears inPANK, La Fovea, Chicago Literati, Pear Noir! andHumanimalz Literary Journal. The poets she most admires are Jorie Graham, John Ashbery, and Jane Hirshfield for their undaunted (and impeccable) sense of the interrelationship of language, imagery, and consciousness. Her work has twice been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and for the 2012 Best of the Net Anthology.

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