This National Poetry Month, we’re offering a sneak peek from our latest issue, Room 47.2 Seedpod. Here’s “What should be safe” by Livia Meneghin, the Second Place Winner of Room’s 2023 Poetry Contest judged by John Elizabeth Stintzi:
“What should be safe”
Livia Meneghin
A bundle of painted turtles sunning on a fallen birch.
The air quality outside—for skipping stones upon lake water; for returning library books to the local branch on foot; for pacing amongst red maples, pines, and hemlocks after hearing he, after so much pain, passed away; for kayaking after hearing she, too young, passed away.
Lettuce from the grocery store.
Swimming.
Muffin tops.
Muffin tops (the other kind).
A love poem with she pronouns.
Explaining symptoms to your doctor.
Praying.
Not praying.
Spotted sandpiper eggs on Plum Island’s Sandy Point. Also, the blackbirds and song sparrows who eat them.
A car carrying a one-week-old child and first-time mothers.
Sitting in the sad ending of a book with a protagonist you relate to.
The bee population.
Coastal cities.
Poets.
Calling 911.
The first name of the person you love when whispered after crying. When typed because you sleep miles apart.
Greeting someone in a language you’re newly learning.
Thinking about wearing a suit to a wedding.
Anger.
The hour before sleep.
Calling your mother because you’re hurting, invisibly.
Calling your father, at all.
Hold this poem close with our latest issue, Room 47.2 Seedpod, alongside art and writing that throws us into the wind so that we may land where we must. Happy National Poetry Month!
