Carolyn Oliver
No Names
Your
hair’s
sunsweat
smell at eight,
old lemon roses,
braided pacts girls make late (and keep),
voicemails, black raspberries, her lace (fan-shaped, pink, crocheted),
sugar maples this far south: there’s no accounting for
all we want to save, no names. Still,
say one syllable,
another,
again,
a
gain.
Carolyn Oliver’s poetry has appeared in Indiana Review, Cincinnati Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, Sixth Finch, Southern Indiana Review, Sugar House Review, FIELD, and elsewhere. She is the winner of the Goldstein Prize from Michigan Quarterly Review, the Frank O’Hara Prize from the Worcester Review, and the Writer’s Block Prize in Poetry. Carolyn lives in Massachusetts with her family. Links to her writing: carolynoliver.net.
Return to May 2020 Edition
Your
hair’s
sunsweat
smell at eight,
old lemon roses,
braided pacts girls make late (and keep),
voicemails, black raspberries, her lace (fan-shaped, pink, crocheted),
sugar maples this far south: there’s no accounting for
all we want to save, no names. Still,
say one syllable,
another,
again,
a
gain.
Carolyn Oliver’s poetry has appeared in Indiana Review, Cincinnati Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, Sixth Finch, Southern Indiana Review, Sugar House Review, FIELD, and elsewhere. She is the winner of the Goldstein Prize from Michigan Quarterly Review, the Frank O’Hara Prize from the Worcester Review, and the Writer’s Block Prize in Poetry. Carolyn lives in Massachusetts with her family. Links to her writing: carolynoliver.net.
Return to May 2020 Edition