Poem of the Week | January 24, 2011
Julie Moore: "Recovery"
This week we are delighted to feature “Recovery” by Julie L. Moore. The poem is previously unpublished. Julie L. Moore is the author of Slipping Out of Bloom, published last year by WordTech Editions, and the chapbook, Election Day (Finishing Line Press). She has twice been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has received the Rosine Offen Memorial Award from the Free Lunch Arts Alliance, the Janet B. McCabe Poetry Prize from Ruminate, and the Judson Jerome Poetry Scholarship from the Antioch Writers’ Workshop. Her poetry has appeared in Alaska Quarterly Review, American Poetry Journal, Atlanta Review, CALYX, The Christian Century, Cimarron Review, The Southern Review, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. Moore lives in Ohio where she directs the writing center at Cedarville University. You can learn more about her work at www.julielmoore.com.
During my long and complicated recuperation from open surgery last spring, my neighbors across the street were remodeling their farmhouse, a homestead that’s been in their family for many generations. As I followed doctors’ orders and “moved around,” hobbling along my front porch and sidewalk, I watched the builder working on the house and caught the poem’s insistent “germ.” I tried resisting it: I thought it was too obvious a metaphor, too easy. (Besides, I thought, surely other women have already written about hysterectomies!) Yet, this neighbor’s brother-in-law, who’s another neighbor of mine (this is rural, southwest Ohio where farm families live along the same tract of land they own), shared with me the tremendous cost of saving the home, a cost the owners could easily have avoided by simply razing the house and starting fresh. After all, even the fireplace’s brick had ground down to dust. I was that house; we all, at some point, become that house. The poem, like prayer, helped me endure pain and uncertainty as it spilled over into gratitude for those who choose preservation as a way of life, gratitude for such grace.
Walking along my front porch, I rub my swollen
a miracle. I am empty now, gutted
every room pared down to the frame’s
All I want is a day when pain
adhesions excised like splinters,
pulled out like windows and walls.
ruin. And part of me would like to give up,
But in the ash trees that line our road,
preserve, preserve, preserve, preserve.
persistent as repeated pleas,
then bury their faces in the velvet
grace as insistent as the tune they hum.
SEE THE ISSUE
Poem of the Week
Jul 04 2022
“William deKooning’s Woman I” by Diane Mehta
This week’s Poem of the Week is “William deKooning’s Woman I” by Diane Mehta. Diane Mehta was born in Frankfurt and grew up in Bombay and New Jersey. She was
Poem of the Week
Jun 27 2022
“Minnie Mouse vs. Security” by M.K. Foster
This week’s Poem of the Week is “Minnie Mouse vs. Security” by M.K. Foster. M.K. Foster’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Indiana Review; The Gettysburg Review; Crab Orchard;
Poem of the Week
Jun 20 2022
“Black Hole in the Long Island Sound” by Peter LaBerge
This week’s Poem of the Week is “Black Hole in the Long Island Sound” by Peter LaBerge. Peter LaBerge is the author of the chapbooks Makeshift Cathedral (YesYes Books) and