Elizabeth Savage/ Poetry 4.1 / Spring 2016

Elizabeth Savage

“Pacific” won Red Savina Review’s Denise Levertov Memorial Poetry Prize



Night begins chopping apart the next day, under
dressed, the will pressed, the end

of the line. Salt moves mountains, then
splits waves godless as the green. All

intention is arranged by the effort. The oysters
taste of it, seasoned with hesitation

an ocean of refusal is what stood you
here. Cut by wind

reduced to reversals of light. Without
a compass, no other place

is in reach. Nowhere else is near
but the wind, crowded with reflection

The glinting beach empties of struggle. Once
the fight readied your skin

Remaining Within

This could become a story of cars, tears
against windshields wiping

away a history, invoking one’s love
of fate. Let’s make it

about distance or the occasional over-
consciousness of breathing. If there is

an order for oppression, the downsizing
counters with new liberty. Do without

silence for one day, one hour and see those
fluctuations of weathered trees

deliver a noise beyond our energies. If
late, sunset adjusts to its time zone

but the real story is one you’ll never notice, holding
your breath, following the dark around



All by ear in the soft, soft bed weighted with
restlessness. At last the back surrenders its

planed passivity. At last the feet turn ambivalent
parting into grey feathered jokes

about flight. Inverted conversions of the unmoored
no, the mind won’t quiet by air but

repairs to its buried dark, a condensation
of pressure and motion. Forget the disarrangements

of the body. Bold outlines a hull the night at last
pours through.

e5d4c5be-ef5e-4985-9f1f-425dc5017d46Elizabeth Savage is the author of two books of poetry from Furniture Press, Idylliad and Grammar, and of a dossier chap recently published in Verse. She has another chapbook published by Dancing Girl Press slated for May, 2016. Savage lives, teaches, and writes in Fairmont, West Virginia.


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