The Waking Comes Late

The Turn

Everyone kept referring to "the turn

in the poem," and it troubled the poet

she didn't understand. Perhaps, she thought,

in all her life's work there was no such "turn,"

nor in her life itself, which must then mean

her journey was simply a homestretch

no epic detours, colourful car-wrecks,

no fork-in-the-road crisis where one lane

veered toward a fuller life, off-map.

Well, tough.

Maybe her heart was always unmanic

shy, but Shaker-steady. Maybe her poems,

like her mind, served more subtle metronomes

so what? In her life no stirring, cinematic

turns, yet still her words make song enough.

From The Waking Comes Late by Steven Heighton 2016. Published by House of AnansiPress.