Angie Macri
| poetry


Give her the name of the longest river in the world
or call her river. Either way, she will collect and hold
and move everyone from one place to another.
You will look into her sometimes and see the sky
above your bodies. You will note if she is dirty,
or running low, or out of control, that the worst
thing for a woman. What luxury, to name one child
for a river so that the rest of the girls can grow up
to measure themselves against her. You develop
her mouth into a harbor and dredge it to be deeper.
Your errors: not to realize the effects of your burning
on the weather, to assume that she will run
like you want her. You will build levees that you expect
to last forever. She never looks over her shoulder.

Angie Macri is the author of Underwater Panther (Southeast Missouri State University), winner of the Cowles Poetry Book Prize. An Arkansas Arts Council fellow, she lives in Hot Springs and teaches at Hendrix College.

Life as a Mirror
Particle, Little Part