J.P. White
History
There is a moment before you cross the threshold
When you wonder if you should have left
Where you were to come here alone.
After you forego familiar rooms memorized in the dark
It’s always later than you think and too early to tell.
It’s always too much or not enough to go on.
It’s always about the woman at the door whose name is
Comfort, Sky, Leah, River Branch or Mary.
I would like to tell you that whatever house I enter, I first say,
Peace to this House, but that would be a lie.
I have brought anger, accusation, sarcasm, memory.
Sometimes I have been so confused on arrival
I have hidden in a back room with a book.
Far from the clink of glasses, I tell myself I want to offer peace
But this wound that calls me back
Keeps me in a new secret place at the back of house,
Where war seems like a better option
Even though nothing ever gets settled and the end is still to come.
J.P. White is the author of the poetry collections The Sleeper at the Party (Defined Providence Press, 2001), The Salt Hour (The University of Illinois Press, 2001), The Pomegranate Tree Speaks from the Dictator’s Garden (Holy Cow Press, 1988), and In Pursuit of Wings (Panache Books, 1978). His essays, articles, fiction, reviews, interviews and poetry have appeared in The Nation, The New Republic, The New York Times Book Review, The Los Angeles Times Magazine, The Gettysburg Review, American Poetry Review, Sewanee Review, Shenandoah, Prairie Schooner, and many other journals and anthologies. He holds a BA from New College (1973), an MA from Colorado State University (1977), and an MFA from Vermont College (1990). He lives on Lake Minnetonka near Minneapolis.
SUBMIT to What Rough Beast via our SUBMITTABLE site.