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Jill Osier

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Jill Osier

Jill Osier’s chapbook from won the Poetry Society of America’s 2017 Alice Fay Di Castagnola Award and is forthcoming from Bull City Press in 2018. She is also the author of the chapbooks Should Our Undoing Come Down Upon Us White (Bull City Press, 2013), winner of the 2013 Frost Place Chapbook Competition, and Bedful of Nebraskas (sunnyoutside, 2012). She lives in Alaska.

by this poet

On the day they killed the last caribou,
I was in love—and I did not know
caribou or cities or the needs of either.

I did not know scilla, and did not know a new love
would be hired to trim the grass around it. The blue flowers
came up through the grass like the grass remembering.

This new love and I, we drove
Sometimes a flag quietly appears
and leads one to a camp in the snow.
Oh, I am sick. I fade, I fall,
I curse this month, all it wants
to be. Its lot is the same
each time, unthawed.
Yet it taunts.
Soon the time when just roads and rivers
run dark in the white. Then they’ll be gone.
But during such days of path and vein
you’ll trace back how things became.
You’re standing in a curving lane of birches
with the word confidante