Out of Reach by M.J. Iuppa

Someone gave us thirty feet of rope and said make something of it.
Make something of a rope that can hold a boat to its mooring—a rope
that’s hard to handle alone, but can be dragged, or hoisted overhead,
or thrown to the ground . . . Let’s do that— let’s throw the rope into
a wide circle & create a small pond frozen in winter. Let’s put on
skates and take turns around & around on cutting edges—breathless,
yet alive in the sound of seams shifting—no, no, splitting until we all
fall in—arms flailing for the rope that’s just out of reach. . . .

                                   Someone comes— someone we feared long ago.
We call out: Sister, save us! Her olive-pit eyes glare at us, at our absurdity,
our awkwardness revealed in mishap, as she fashions the rope into rescue,
pulling a string of us slippery fish— panting & flopping on the snow until
we’re still— every part of us frozen by her touch.



M.J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 31 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.