The atmosphere is a blanket
around the Earth, and the quilt
the students made for Abby’s birth,
each stitching a patch and its flannel
back. She arrived two weeks early—eyes
wide—a girl. She still has that quilt,
a net of thread and frayed fabric in her bed.
Her first word was More, looking up at me
after I’d nursed her, those wide eyes
breaking some genetic code of blue. More.
Was it a question or a demand,
this first knowing?
Sarah Dickenson Snyder has written poetry since she knew there was a form with conscious line breaks. She has two poetry collections, The Human Contract (Aldrich Press) and Notes from a Nomad (Finishing Line Press). Recently, poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Comstock Review, The Main Street Rag, Chautauqua Literary Magazine, Piedmont Journal, Stirring: a Literary Journal, Whale Road Review, Front Porch, The Sewanee Review, and RHINO. In May of 2016, she was a 30/30 Poet for Tupelo Press. One poem was selected by Mass Poetry Festival Migration Contest to be stenciled on the sidewalk in Salem, MA, for the annual festival, April 2017. Another poem was nominated for Best of Net 2017.