William J Neumire

AUTONOMY

I moved so far
That no one knew our family name.
No one spoke of seeing us the night
before at the supermarket, or reading
about our relatives in the local paper.

The first time I called back I was frying
chicken on a secondhand pan
that smelled of food burnt
during other dinners.

And my mother’s voice sounded
as if its clairvoyance stretched
through the full tract of my life
when she said: All is well, and all
will be well. What was I to know

Of the wife and children I hadn’t met,
of a dog I’d buy and bury, of pictures
I’d hang on the walls of a home that did
not grow from my mother’s cultured hands --
I knew only that everything my own
would have to be like this: echoing, full of space,
hard to settle into,
like water almost frozen.

Location:	Brockport, New York
Occupation:	Preschool Teacher
Email:	wjneumire@msn.com
Publications:	Adirondack Review, Poetry Midwest, Zuzu's Petals, 2River, AugustCutter, Blue Mesa Review, Melange, Pierian Springs, ThreeCandles, Stirring, etc.
Chapbook:	Resonance of Kin, Between Worlds, Need for the Missing (forthcoming, Pudding House Press)

- October 2003 - Groundhog Day All Over Again Impressions at the Monument Passing Shutins An unforgettable poem Thanksgiving letter for leah Where Old Ghosts Meet - 2003 Pushcart Nominations - Hyssop After the Flood String Lessons The Taxidermist's Wife How to Build a Man Automony