Watching me the way she used to watch
sports games that were not close—
able to sift through the Times, flutter pages
of a crossword puzzle dictionary
with the Sunday magazine spread
before her, #2 pencil in hand.
The sound of commentators audible,
a marching band background
(if it was intercollegiate), not focused
intently—glancing toward the TV,
now me, maybe with more attention
if I drift perilously on a highway
doused in rain and wind
and darkness. But usually,
just aware with a proprietary air—
the way she’d walk into my kitchen,
unplug the toaster,
move it down the counter,
Much closer to the bread
here, dear.
Sarah Dickenson Snyder’s full-length collection of poetry, The Human Contract (Aldrich Press), and her chapbook, Notes from a Nomad (Finishing Line Press), are forthcoming in 2017. In May of 2016, she was a 30/30 Poet for Tupelo Press.