Poem of the Week | May 25, 2026

Elizabeth Lindsey Rogers is the author of three poetry collections, including Bad Cell (Acre Books, 2027), The Tilt Torn Away from the Seasons (Acre Books, 2020), and Chord Box (University of Arkansas Press, 2013), as well as a nonfiction collection, Miss Southeast: Essays (Curbstone, 2024). Her poetry appears in POETRY, AGNI, Bennington Review, and many other journals. She is an assistant professor of creative writing at Oberlin College and lives with her family in Ohio.

“So there are traditions you might still have a stomach for?” by Elizabeth Lindsey Rogers is our Poem of the Week.

***

So there are traditions you might still have a stomach for?

These are modes I’ve come to reject:
              pearls, poodle skirts, lawn care,
sitting girlboygirlboy or silent
              as lunchroom punishments,

kitchen art with words to tell me
              I am blessed & of a grateful
heart. But I have my soft spots
              for ritual, especially the turning

of the seasons. I drop apples
              into the hands of teachers
& feel almost holy
              when I see the alphabet floating

between the dotted lines.
              When instructed, I cover
each stuffed animal
              with the pinwheel quilt

as the first September
              chill pulses at the pane.
I don’t believe in leaf blowers
              or a pilgrim buckle’s easy

symmetry. But I do miss stepping off
              the train in my old life, solstice-
time, twin lines of Appalachian
              trees brushing me as I walk through

the marketplace, fir-smelling
              channel of air. I miss the window’s
oiled fingerprints after menorahs are lit.
              Smell of snow rushing in. I miss

the upbreath while you wait
              for your newest love to respond,
that continuous feeling
              of not knowing but still want.

***

Author’s Note