After you’ve set the book down, It’s all right if we only remember the paper cuts.
It’s all right if Eliot stands under a bare bulb for days
writing two lines.
We should thank our su ering— Chopin coughed up blood composing his last mazurka.
We come from an ancient family of weepers—A certain grief
gave birth to us all.
A flash of agony stokes the coals in the heart’s furnace. We burn like the scrolls of Alexandria.
It’s OK to break down before
the poem is over. Everything we’ve lost carries us on the wind.
Poem by Alexander Etheridge
Image by Adam Strong
Alexander Etheridge has been developing his poems and translations since 1998. His poems have been featured in The Potomac Review,Museum of Americana, Ink Sac, Welter Journal, The Cafe Review, The Madrigal, Abridged Magazine, Susurrus Magazine, The Journal, Roi Faineant Press, and many others. He was the winner of the Struck Match Poetry Prize in 1999, and a finalist for the Kingdoms in the Wild Poetry Prize in 2022. He is the author of, God Said Fire, and, Snowfire and Home.
Backwards Trajectory 