I tried to leave behind
everything that could make me
burn, to evade the urges
of change, by shutting myself up
in the country. I live apart,
I stay in and spend evenings
on quiet pursuits, studying
history. What I’ve learned
is that the old house I chose
for its worn, creaking wood
was built after a woman
torched her first home,
that desperate for something
new. It’s to the house of her
wanting, her flame azaleas
all around, growing in closer,
that I have come to simplify
my desires. I wade in the creek,
collecting from the water, pieces
of china, edges charred.
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Rose McLarney’s collection of poems, The Always Broken Plates of Mountains, was published by Four Way Books. She has received a number of awards and fellowships for her work, which has appeared in the Kenyon Review, Orion, Slate, New England Review, Painted Bride Quarterly and dozens of other journals. Rose earned her MFA from Warren Wilson’s MFA Program for Writers and currently is assistant professor of poetry at Oklahoma State University.
