Issue 45.1

Still Necessary

by Lisa Rhoades

All weekend a kernel of loss 
nudged me along, October 
does that sometimes, each morning 
a little darker on the staircase 
out of summer. 
I am looking for mercies this Monday: 
for my body to ache less, 
for my marriage to feel 
like purple asters—sturdy and sweet
reaching out by the steps 
a late gift to the bees—
instead of like a field sculpted by hurt,
seeded with a crop never meant 
for summer feasts, not  
Ambrosia, Nirvana, or Silver Queen 
just dent corn, tough and stripped 
from its stalks, scattered 
in the combine’s wake,
but still necessary, still food.

51·çÁ÷¹ÙÍø the Author

Lisa Rhoades is the author of The Long Grass (Saint Julian Press, 2020) and Strange Gravity (Bright Hill Press, 2004). Individual poems have appeared at Boulevard, Calyx, Rust+Moth, and The Southern Review among others. She works as a pediatric nurse in New York City where she lives with her spouse and their children. Find her online at: http://lisarhoades.com.