Mary Ann Samyn is the author of five collections of poetry, most recently Beauty Breaks In (New Issues, 2009).
Her new collection, the forthcoming My Life in Heaven, wil be released in 2013 from Oberlin College Press, 2013.She teaches in the MFA program at West Virginia University.- Home
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Sunday
Dec
22
Mary Ann Samyn - Poetry
Mary Ann Samyn is the author of five collections of poetry, most recently Beauty Breaks In (New Issues, 2009).
Her new collection, the forthcoming My Life in Heaven, wil be released in 2013 from Oberlin College Press, 2013.She teaches in the MFA program at West Virginia University.---------
Technological
I do the hour in three-minute intervals
like the hostesses on TV who sell the weather.
There wasn’t really any new snow, after all.
And that whole last year was going through the motions.
You be in charge of it for a while I wanted to say.
Then did.
Facts are facts; power, power.
Some statements just become more and more true.
In the dream, the freight train went by already,
and the passenger train wasn’t coming.
Real life sirens woke me early.
Innovation, sweetheart, is my bread and butter.
But this love, first thing in the morning
or lights out, I’m learning, is old-fashioned.
By the Way, Hello
A day of waiting, and a room for it.
Ghosts on TV, and the urge to cry.
What should I do now, or next?
And why did I do what I did for so long?
A floral pattern catches my eye.
The ceiling curves like a sky, palest blue.
I’m loving you this very minute, OK?
Nothing is preventing anything.
A Question and Its Answer
A girl and a castle meet; this is not yet a problem.
Then a beautiful lake intervenes.
This is our story, already in progress.
Isn’t it obvious I’m most myself when you’re in me?
There, I said it.
Maybe the forsythia, just out, deserves partial credit.
An epiphany if ever there was one.
Now, I could look at you a long time.
Two Things at Once
A late fawn and the lake as warm as I’ve ever known.
Everyone agrees well in advance: it’ll be a hard winter.
But that’s the future. My window is six panes for the present.
And haven’t I said I prefer a grid? Yes, but—
Better yet, a body of water, something to set west.
Then, something to touch, furred or sueded, a color like that.
My sweeter self speaks up now; no more fussing at your collar.
Asked to hold an intention, I held radiant beauty.
No one inquired later whether or not it had come true.
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Photo credit: Laura Haley