Your name starts with the subject of torque. The way childhood twists with the fraught numbering of birth order. The subtracted state of sister, breezy second to the sun. Then air moved by so fast. Suddenly you were in high school drag racing cars for sport. My money was always on the Mustang because of its horsepower—the calculation at which you can move 550 lbs—and its low profile pony zip. Sometimes, I wonder if you were ever really here. I walked with your apostle name knowing its fraudulence, its missing “t.” A crucifix taken out for posting. I want this to mean something but I’ve never been the cross-carrying kind. Your name tries to sell me on it though. The day after you died, your name really took me for a ride. I said it over and over until it appeared on the news. But just like that, it was gone again, My flyaways still waving in a gust of syllables. I chased my tail a while looking at the aftermath. Nothing added up. I wanted a somewhere to vanish like you had. A city gone. And the dumbfounded gapes of people open like a gift horse. I do not have that kind of power. But I think about leaving sometimes. Hang a cross from my rearview mirror, simply for the way it catches the sun, and watch the dash lines roll, this time leaving, not being left.
Amber Adams is a poet and counselor living in Longmont, Colorado. Her debut collection, Becoming Ribbons (Unicorn Press, 2022), was a finalist for the X.J. Kennedy Prize and semifinalist for the Lexi Rudnitsky First Book Prize. She received her MA in Literary Studies from the University of Denver, and her MA in Counseling from Regis University. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Poetry Magazine, Poetry Northwest, Narrative, Witness, 32 Poems, and elsewhere.
3/6 / Meet the Artist with visiting poet-in-residence Keetje Kuipers / The Library at The Betsy-South Beach, Miami Beach, FL / Live and Live-Streamed on Instagram Live/Facebook Live at @swwimmiami / 6:00 pm EST / Free
3/6 / Poetry Reading with visiting poet-in-residence Keetje Kuipers + local writer Julie Marie Wade / The Library at The Betsy-South Beach, Miami Beach, FL / Live and Live-Streamed on Instagram Live/Facebook Live at @swwimmiami / 7:30 pm EST / Free
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It's hard to find words for this poem. I can only say this: when a true artist loses something precious and tells us, we miraculously receive it back as a gift.