A Poem

by Miriam Sagan

tideline
of the day’s
detritus—sea urchin
skate egg sac, glassie
plastic bottle, red seagull
it was no
hurricane
that hung everything
from the ceiling
of the house
lawn chair, garlic braid,
the crumpled volumes
of calendars,
heft of pollen, butterfly wing
this was the inversion
of dream
like fog
over an insignificant
industrial city
like thinking you see a message
written in the rainy street
by the traffic light
hoping—right or not—
that god’s hand will spare us.


Miriam Sagan is the author of 30 published books, including the novel Black Rainbow (Sherman Asher, 2015) and Geographic: A Memoir of Time and Space (Casa de Snapdragon). which just won the 2016 Arizona/New Mexico Book Award in Poetry. She founded and headed the creative writing program at Santa Fe Community College until her retirement this year. Her blog Miriam’s Well (http://miriamswell.wordpress.com) has a thousand daily readers. She has been a writer in residence in two national parks, at Yaddo, MacDowell, Colorado Art Ranch, Andrew’s Experimental Forest, Center for Land Use Interpretation, Iceland’s Gullkistan Residency for creative people, and another dozen or so remote and unique places. Her awards include the Santa Fe Mayor’s award for Excellence in the Arts, the Poetry Gratitude Award from New Mexico Literary Arts, and A Lannan Foundation residency in Marfa.
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2 thoughts on “A Poem

  1. Pingback: Tideline by Miriam Sagan | Miriam's Well: Poetry, Land Art, and Beyond

  2. Pingback: Tideline by Miriam Sagan | Miriam's Well: Poetry, Land Art, and Beyond

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