Come Back to Tell Us by Matthew Thorburn

View this email on a browser Forward to a friend August 1, 2016   Come Back to Tell Us   Matthew Thorburn

Dusk in August— which means nearly nine o’clock here, deep in the heart of central Jersey—and the deer step out to graze the backyards. They tear each yellowy red tulip cup, munch up rhododendrons and azaleas. Fifty years of new houses have eaten into their woodland, leaving only this narrow strip of trees along the trickly stream that zigzags between Route 9 and Lily’s mom’s backyard. The deer rise from the mist, hooves clicking on asphalt, a doe and a buck, his antlers like a chandelier. Sometimes a doe and two fawns. Or else we see just the white flags of their tails bobbing away into the dark. In theory the DNR should come catch them, let them go where it’s still forest, still possible to live as they were meant to. But these days there’s no money for that. And people keep leaving out old bread, rice, stale cookies, or else plant more delicious flowers. “Mei banfa,” my mother-in-law says: Nothing can be done. Seeing them in the distance—that distance we can’t close without them shying and turning and skittering down Dickinson Lane or bounding over a backyard fence— I try to imagine they’re messengers come back to tell us their stories, any news of the lost or what comes next, though if they could say anything, they would probably say, Go away.            Copyright © 2016 Matthew Thorburn. Used with permission of the author. About This Poem   “‘Come Back to Tell Us’ is part of a book-length poem called Dear Almost, which takes place over the course of a year, from one spring to the next, and is addressed to an unborn child lost in a miscarriage. I was fascinated to learn that, according to Shinto beliefs, deer are considered messengers of the gods—and images of deer, along with the deep wish to send a message to our lost one, figure throughout the poem. Speaking of learning, years ago when my wife and I first started dating, I discovered that all the streets in the neighborhood where she grew up were named after poets—Dickinson Lane, Longfellow Terrace, Sandburg Drive—which seemed like another kind of message from the gods.” —Matthew Thorburn   Matthew Thorburn is the author of Dear Almost (Louisiana State University Press, 2016). He lives in New York City, where he works in corporate communications.     Poetry by Thorburn   Dear Almost (Louisiana State University Press, 2016)   "A Hand" by Jane Hirshfield "[the broken pleasure of marching]" by kari edwards "Charlie Howard’s Descent" by Mark Doty Poem-a-Day   Launched during National Poetry Month in 2006, Poem-a-Day features new and previously unpublished poems by contemporary poets on weekdays and classic poems on weekends. Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit Poets.org.   You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click here.   © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038