Carol Ann Davis
The fellowship comes at a time in my life when I am feeling the culmination of a few things: Psalm, my first book of poems, will be published within the fellowship year, and my second son will arrive during the fellowship, as well. It's a good time to focus on new work, and there's nothing like this kind of support to allow me to do just that.
Writing poems is solitary work, so to receive this type of recognition from poets one has trusted for years is a bit like receiving a bolt from the blue. A welcome one.
"Grief Daybook I"
Today it's like water in the ear, a slow bleed in the brain,
thinking of your bones
and the marrow inside them. Last night,
half-awake, I leaned into the siren as it passed
and thought of Coltrane writing his liner-note prayer
--it all has to do with it--
and listened for the drumbeat of another pulse in me.
It's there, but I can't hear it. In the morning
there will be blue sunlight and organ music
from the church across the street.
Where you've gone, there will be a night sky of psalms--
a cello's goose neck, fingers waiting
above a stalled note.
Oh, ear of my ear,
there's hardly anything
left of you now.