Poetry By Rachel White

         Nicholas_T CC



​
​Undertow

spring’s slow trickle                 of trampled snow          unleashes 
backlogged precipitation         swells Mississippi          well over her banks

I don’t fish           but friends who do          inform me            bass don’t bite            
when the water’s rising           they hide in eddies         from the gathering current

and I do read                the obituaries of boys          who jump in        
and come out white          downstream in Vernon County  

boys survived by family         who swear              their deaths are intentional

and I do observe              that sliver of moon               left to hang 
like a cut nail            visceral as the silence                      between us

and I do feel          the cloak of your embrace          hands that belie       
the goodbye                in the soaked          midnight world        

and I do wish              to almighty             to go back          warn myself      
to evade your first touch                  but here we are          scuffing blacktop         

under maple buds              just opened             the divergence       
as incidental          and permanent                   as the river drownings




​Rachel White is an emerging poet and artist. She holds a B.F.A in Graphic Design from Viterbo University, and a M.Ed. from the University of Wollongong. Originally from Wisconsin, she has worked in Connecticut and Australia as an art teacher for over a decade, and is a U.S. Army veteran. Rachel’s work has been published in Third Wednesday Magazine.