Poem of the Week | July 25, 2016

This week, we are excited to offer a poem by Christopher Nelson. Nelson is the author of Blue House, published in the Poetry Society of America’s Chapbook Series, and Capital City at Midnight, recipient of the 2014 BLOOM Chapbook Prize. He is editor of Under A Warm Green Linden, an online journal of poetry founded in 2008. Visit www.christophernelson.info.
Author’s note:

We mark the midpoint between solstices and celebrate or dread those days, the spring and autumn equinoxes; but we don’t officially note the midpoint between solstice and equinox, which is a time when suggestions of seasonal shifts become pronounced. I feel and see it in early February every year: lengthening daylight and less extreme cold. I wanted to learn if there were any traditions or rituals associated with this one-eighth-of- the-year mark, this midpoint between midpoints. Imbolc is a Gaelic celebration that does just that. Also called Saint Brigid’s Day, it has ancient roots and is still practiced in parts of Ireland.




in love and therefore
uncostumed we
are again holding
each other in the steady but ultimately
frail architecture of our bodies
the first costume
we had no role in choosing
or maybe we did but
I don’t recall doing so do you
in some unembodied beforelife craving
this world of noise and pain
and temporary pleasure this single
berry I give to you from winter
cracked fingers one red temple
of seeds and sun
shuttled all the way around this earth for
our two moments of joy
of which we must believe
ourselves worthy