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26th July, 2024

Friday Poem – ‘H Is for Hurtle, J for July’ by Carrie Etter

Photo of sunlight streaming through green leaves, a park bench blurred out in the background

This week’s Friday Poem is ‘H Is for Hurtle, J for July’ by Carrie Etter from her collection Grief’s Alphabet.

H Is for Hurtle, J for July
My July hurtles towards Janus:
on the 29th, her death on an operating table four thousand miles away:
on the 30th, the anniversary of her birth, but there is no cake, no candles
to burn, no long contemplated amid
hastily purchased presents. I said
hurtle yet could also say hurdle
as I spend the month leaping and stumbling at the insurmountable.
Look at these skinned knees I might say to myself.As for hurt,
either I will go into the garden and yank out the weeds or I will slip
under a duvet and call my cats to join me.
Imagine such a month, the mountaineer’s climb from single to and through double digits. I loiter in bed, but I, bride to wakefulness, I, mind rummaging toward world, I,
horizontal lumbering toward
vertical, I, athirst, swallowing
to wet my throat, I—
I hurtle through an air
thick as treacle, whether in the shower soundlessly keening, whether in the market knocking a watermelon as she
or searching for cobs of corn still in
the husk I would peel as she set
the water boiling, whether whether whether all July even sitting in a park and watching men in white play cricket I hurtle through the blank, ceaseless corridor of grief.
And so much for July—I write in December. Lifelong I daughter.