Rhiannon Briggs
Postcard with Still Life
So there I was at the red light waiting
to turn left on a hometown street, looking through
shop windows and suppressing from conscious thought
each wish for the glass to cave in whenever
I’m not around. My left hand blocking the sun
and my right scribbling something of you
in the margins of my to-do list. And only
halfway through, the light turned! Yes,
you were on my mind that afternoon,
and curling against your chest, and radio static,
the lowing of a nearby storm.
I paused for a moment,
you know, before I lifted
my foot from the brake.
How Close We Got to Fire (Stata Mater Prayer)
My brother once left a gas burner on in an empty
house for the better half of a day, and on another occasion
my uncle did the same for a weekend. I desperately suffocate
a lost spark in dry grass.
Rhiannon Briggs brings their typewriter along with them to national parks, public libraries, friends’ couches, and, of course, coffee shops throughout the American West in a 2013 Subaru Outback with backpacking gear covering the backseat and a mattress, purple quilt, and beat-up copy of Swann’s Way in the trunk. They are the recipient of a Canterbury Fellowship, a winner of the Shipsey Prize, and a Best of the Net and Best New Poets nominee. You can find their work at rhiannonbriggs.com.
