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FOUR WAY REVIEW

Cate Lycurgus’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in American Poetry Review, Tin House, Orion, and elsewhere. A 2014 Ruth Lilly Fellowship Finalist, she has also received scholarships from Bread Loaf and Sewanee Writers’ Conferences and was named one of Narrative’s 30 Under 30 Featured Writers. Cate lives south of San Francisco, California, where she takes care of her father, interviews for 32 Poems, and teaches professional writing. You can find her at www.catelycurgus.com.

TWO POEMS by Cate Lycurgus

Monday, 15 April 2019 by Cate Lycurgus

COORDINATE VISION

There may not be a whole world, just
             the hole that I know of it.

Though I scale up, ever-after a vista
             that will hold. Water for whatever

dialect of thirst, or map from where
             it flows. Of playground rocks

tossed at my heels, heels cracked like alpine
             contour drawings, drawing

a placebo in the final stage—I’ll proclaim
             nothing. My ache is addendum

to laments long-tenanted in blood less faulty
             than mine; which quakes

when I survey the timeless plates, how
             boundaries shift to constrain.

Equipped with legend and no dead-weight,
             a face of freckles constellating

spangled ways ahead—I toss out the old-
             growth compass. Ask

for small dippers of what is not:  capital,
             settled, primary color; try

ripping perforated paths to let our borders
             bleed. Holiest

of holies. But who am I to approximate
             a shrinking eyelet of hurricane

when every storm I manage to out-wait
             takes another girl’s name?

At last the globe tilts, swiveling my gaze
             from the well-charted path

of my own gale to zoom out, diffuse, so
             dilate:  the Aida, the Boone, the Cate.
 

CARE/FUL

I don’t think I        could care

   less      for the buy-one-/  get-one

           free unless the bye    is some re-

prieve and one     my getting full-/ly

       how       less is all      that I need

besides that TV        left beneath

the olive tree             w/a shaky

 sharpied sign   free

for-all       is saying      all

of y’all—

      please—      free me of this

   broke machine     it is easier to un-

load to free      load load up on

               those free samples

   ample      space           than to make

        a place    and one’s   days full/-y

               of care    as you said     I was free

       to go    away         free to walk

from the curb            take no/thing

with me care-     free        but know:      I never

                     was       or was—

           every day                I chose

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  • Published in Issue 15
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