Mary Szybist is an American poet. She won the National Book Award for Poetry for her collection Incarnadine.
There’s plenty that poetry cannot do. But the miracle, of course, is how much it can do, how much it does do.
Without you my air tastes like nothing. For you I hold my breath.
I do not believe in the beauty of falling.
If I couldbind myself to this moment, to the slowsnare of its scentwhat would it matter if I becamejust the flutter of pagein a text someone turnsto examine mein the wrong color?
You can’t have two worlds in your hands and choose emptiness.
Days go by when I do nothing but underline the damp edge of myself.
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Nas