Women's Voices For Change

“Ink on Paper” seems to prioritize unarticulated feeling over rational thought and movement and communication over holding things tightly and trying to preserve  their physical manifestations.

Sometimes we rely on poetry as a sort of goad—to bear witness, expose evil or hypocrisy in others, or expose ourselves to ourselves.

One strength of today’s poem, though, is that it works even for readers not familiar with that infamous case involving a Stanford swimmer convicted of sexually assaulting an unconscious young woman behind a dumpster. Even before #metoo, sexual assaults like this are common enough, unfortunately, that readers will get the gist.

My father, a math and astronomy professor at a small university in the rural Midwest, taught me to look up and learn about the night sky.

The poem captures the relaxed, meandering qualities of still-light-at-night community meals in high summer. Community, family, plenty, gratitude—we feel all this in the poem, and understand the way ordinary experiences can sometimes transcend themselves. 

This poem was born the child of observation and memory. It recalls the first time I saw grapes growing in cultivation, and the wonder I felt at the light, the grapes and the arbor.

“The Bay” is about loss, but also about what is not lost; about death, but also new life; about stasis and stagnation, but also about the breeze picking up and new life quickening in stem, blossom, and vine.