- By Abby MacGregor
The body she needs me now to cut her food and feed her,
to bring the glass of sweet water, never sweeter, to her mouth,
dry and shuttered. Now it unfurls itself as mouth, fish wet
and bird ascendant to a higher branch, with the taste of peaches
on its tongue, and for a moment she is mine again.
—from “My Body,” Spring 2018 (Vol. 59, Issue 1)
Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.
“Pompeii 79 A.D.” was one of my first poems. I shared it with others in a poetry workshop and it was admired for its minimalism, its imagery. I distinctly remember writing about a man scooping up his baby in his arms and hopelessly...