Heather A. Truett
“Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.”
– Sylvia Plath
I want to be the words that decapitated Emily Dickinson,
made her so cold no fire could warm her.
I will write scorch marks into the skin
of a nation, scar its path.
I want to hold ajar the door
to Morley’s madness, scribble
my sea creature diary, flying fantasy
in Sandburg’s air. I will be the echo
that asks the shadow to dance.
I will write a light into the hateful night,
force feed little lives into the daily deaths.
I want to be the “Ahhh”
of Lucille Clifton’s first poem,
da Vinci’s vital truth,
Pablo Neruda’s act of peace.
I will write a war and make it melt,
a snowflake soaking into manmade history.
I want to make Dylan Thomas’s
toenails twinkle, steal T. S.’s soul,
make love to the lightning
Randall Jarrell called to strike.
I will write the striking blows
of simple words with target marks.
I want to be born in the bowels
of the ancient wilderness of earth,
midwifed by Mary Oliver and holding
Berry’s hand while I breathe
the unconditional breath.
I will write in that air, ethereal,
tailor the truth to tease and tumble.
I want to be tangled limb
by limb with Sylvia in her silence,
I will write a brand-new Genesis, create
out of refuse a hallowed Universe.
I want to be
to e. e.
the only thing
I will write for them
the only things
Heather Truett is a mom to teen boys, a student at the University of Memphis, and a slightly heretical pastor’s wife. The Scientific Method of Getting Luckie, her debut novel, releases in 2021.