Needing To Go On by Elizabeth McLagan

No is the wildest word we consign to language—Emily Dickinson

Sometimes the horizon is a scathing line.
Eye matter, retinal burns and erasures. The blue after
effect of yellow. The edge is eye-love or brain-love or
the mind’s unfocused obsession.  One way
of thinking contradicts the next, like hope.

Sometimes the horizon is thinned almost
to extinction. Teeth appear in the mud, and fresh-licked
bones. Sometimes No is a rewilded trembling opening
where shadows retreat and advance like armies
or a herd of wild horses. Wary. Elusive.

Sometimes a calculation. Sometimes a deluge.
A mirror. Though it breaks in the tread of heavy feet,
its lines touch, forging connections. Where do I want to go?
What makes me happy? No not mattering.
Emptiness rigged like a sail: fugitive, and flying.

Elizabeth McLagan is the author of the poetry collection In The White Room. Poems have appeared in The Southern Review, Boulevard, Los Angeles Review, 32 Poems, Beloit Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. She has won an AWP Intro award, the Frances Locke Memorial Award and the Bellingham Review’s 49th Parallel Poetry Award.