poet

Amy King

Printer-friendly version
Amy King

Amy King is the author of The Missing Museum (Tarpaulin Sky Press, 2016) and I Want to Make You Safe (Litmus Press, 2011). She serves on the executive board of VIDA: Women in Literary Arts and is a professor of creative writing at SUNY Nassau Community College.

by this poet

poem

Will my arm be enough to reach you?
On whose side is indecision?
You are the mother of material travel,
even in the form of a shoeless child.
It is difficult to place time—especially here.
You aren’t now, and you don’t come here.
The other sameness, an other of the same
in the

poem

Shame on you for dating a museum:
Everything is dead there and nothing is alive.
Not everyone who lives to be old embraces
the publicity of it all. I mean, you get up and folks
want to know, How did you get here? What makes you
go? What is the secret?
And there is no secret except

2
poem
Man acts as an antenna for the sun
and then: a trout in the milk, 
men who wear kilts after darkness. 
Build a bottle of fish with a few dried figs. 
Dear Shadow,
when did I become that person?  
I mean one who says "plastic glucose" 
without wondering what 
rotten-sweet is? The one who teenagers
represent?