SWWIM sustains and celebrates women poets by connecting creatives across generations and by curating a living archive of contemporary poetry, while solidifying Miami as a nexus for the literary arts.
She half-stood after dinner, said Six words and seized Like the old Packard following The shrieking squad car With Annie in the back seat, Her appendix rupturing, the oil light Coming on, unnoticed.
Gabriella said Your mother is dead now, We trundled her to her room, Laid her down. I could swear She was still breathing, but it was Just the final bodily functions Shutting down like gears freezing Ungreased, the rattle of the Radiator hissing its last Exhalation. What was it she said Standing there, surprised, Her voice gone thick.
Last words. You expect Profundity. Or an image: The spiritual bird on an updraft. Surely, I think now when the light suddenly Flares and dims at the archway to Something or nothing, in that ancient Turtle mutter, a primeval tone Before civilization mustered Columns of rationality, She might have enlightened us.
But there was nothing Significant. Nothing to bequeath. No evidence. She said I want to go to bed So firmly there was no denying The order. We shouldered her Into the darkness.
Joan Colby’s Selected Poems received the 2013 FutureCycle Prize and Ribcage was awarded the 2015 Kithara Book Prize. Her recent books include Her Heartsongs from Presa Press, Joyriding to Nightfall from FutureCycle Press, Elements from Presa Press and Bony Old Folks from Cyberwit Press. She has another book forthcoming from The Poetry Box Select series titled The Kingdom of the Birds which should be out next August.
