Edges of things, not the things themselves.
Borders, border crossings, not
the flat countries, all alike.
Boundaries, places of possibility
and want —
where no one is sure what currency
to use, what words will buy freedom,
where we (orphans, all) can slip
like shadows, or dreams
from one world to another, forgetting
all we need, carried
in our eyes: eyes the color
of earth, of sky, of water
crossed by clouds —
weighing what words matter,
and what words to leave behind, wrapped
About the Author: Wendy McVicker lives and writes in the beautiful green hills of Athens, Ohio. In her poetry, she seeks "to honor memory and the slow, deep process of knowing." Her poems have appeared in Appalachian Women's Journal, Confluence, Riverwind, and Whiskey Island, among others. She is a teaching poet with the Ohio Arts Council's Arts in Education program, and has been inciting poetry in schools, libraries, galleries, and community centers since 1987.
Copyright © 2008 by Wendy McVicker. This poem may not be reproduced in any form without the author's express written permission.