Matthew Zapruder

3:14 PM
August 21, 2019 Zapruder Matthew

3:14 PM
This blue pen I am holding

feels carved from a glacier so

my fingers are sad

which is a good way to begin

the me from 1998 says

to the me who of sadness

like everything is so tired

and the face of Nazim Hikmet

looks down he says

live like a squirrel

and the earth will someday

be an empty walnut maybe

with a little blue light

still in it like this pen

which was not carved but

made somewhere

I often wonder

whether anyone

from the kitchen where

we used to talk all night

about the freedom of the future

is still alive or have they all

like me gone into the business

of naming breezes

I named one sorrow magnet

and another dangerous agreement

like a tree I cried to the sun

I am your lost child of gold

but the sun said no

inch your way back

to the forest

in a thousand years

the shadows will tell you

who you were green one

Matthew Zapruder is the author of five collections of poetry, most recently Father’s Day, from Copper Canyon in Fall 2019, as well as Why Poetry, a book of prose. He is editor at large at Wave Books, where he edits contemporary poetry, prose, and translations. From 2016-7 he held the annually rotating position of Editor of the Poetry Column for the New York Times Magazine. He teaches in the MFA and English Department at Saint Mary’s College of California.