The poetry of Colleen Lucy

Poem for a Century
For A.H.R.

Existence comes from an amount
without number. The ones

who came before
try to be strangers, and I am left

reaching after their traces
like a ladder with no rungs

thrown from above.

Figures appear
from memory offered

and leave dark outlines
to be filled by romantic notions.

The unknowable past
shifts my venture

to defeat the fear of forgetting
into a realm where I

pace in my youth.

On the cusp
of one hundred years of living,

his body shouts less curses
of loneliness than my own,

and he looks at old photographs
as elements of the future.

He holds everything
my body asks for my mind to know.




a crow with two rings,
in its mouth,
sits on cinder block
while I walk
over cracks in stone.

Its beak is made —
dripping gold
on gold
on feather —

from the interplay of light
and skin and feather.

All that escapes
from the bill
collects here,
once again,
the same,
only a little further.

Colleen Lucy is a fourth-year undergraduate at the University of Maine. In September she will be an English M.A. student at Boston College. Her poetry has previously only appeared in her undergraduate literary journal. She has been writing for two years.

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