In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

  • I Did Not Go Down to the River to Pray
  • Heather Dobbins (bio)

What I want is a still rest. This artery leads from no heart. My stance, arrested: alone on a bridge with the farce of dignity. Chin up, girl, like the preacherman said. Put it all in God's hands. To think, I am finally taking control of something. A clawed-for life can only mark a husband set on beating. Scratches only slow it down. My hands grabbing air, I choose to lose this time. That good old way. Bramble and weed: spreading, nameless. Water, force, blood swelling in pounds. Try to stand in briar and mud. What holds me now? Seconds jumped through in another used sky. The Mississippi is no womb sac, no return. Just limbs and unbrushed curls, caught in other fallen branches. A dirt shore in the bed of nails. A robe and crown. And me tangled, finally full. [End Page 243]

Heather Dobbins

Heather Dobbins's poems and reviews have appeared in Beloit Poetry Review, CutBank, Raleigh Review, the Rumpus, and TriQuarterly Review, among others. Her debut, In the Low Houses, was published by Kelsay Books in 2014. For more of her writings, visit heatherdobbins.net.

...

pdf

Share