Shelter Island Poetry Grant winner named: New contest honors Bliss Morehead
The Shelter Island Public Library has announced JoAnn Kirkland as the winner of the first annual Bliss Morehead Memorial Poetry Grant.
The grant of $1,000 is awarded to the winner of this poetry competition for unpublished poets (ages 17 and above) on the East End. Ms. Kirkland is a freelance writer and editor and owner of “A Word Owl,” an editing business. Her winning poem is entitled “High Above.” The theme of the competition was “Delight and Despair,” drawing numerous submissions for judges Charity Robey, Irene Cornell and George Held to consider.
“Like many of the entries, her poem dealt with great candor and sensitivity with her own illness and recovery,” Ms. Robey said, “and was a good fit for the contest’s theme. I think her reading of the poem at the library will be very powerful.” Ms. Kirkland and others will read their poems at the annual Bliss Morehead Poetry Reading on Friday, April 22 at 7 p.m., in person at the Library.
The Bliss Morehead Memorial Poetry Grant was established by Islander Mike Zisser in honor of his late wife, who dedicated much of her life to the art of poetry. Ms. Morehead was also the curator of annual poetry readings at the Shelter Island Library for many years. Mr. Zisser said: “My hope is that this annual grant will create a legacy making poetry more accessible to more people. This is what Bliss would have wanted. Thanks to the Shelter Island Public Library and the Shelter Island Poetry Group for supporting this program.”
John Moore’s poem “Medical Tests” was awarded Second Place. Honorable Mentions were given to Janet Culbertson for “Galapagos Tortoise, The Exile,” Aterahme Lawrence for “Alive in the Dead of Night” and Lora Lomuscio for “The Woods Down the Road.”
Below is the winning entry by Ms. Kirkland.
High Above
BY JO ANN KIRKLAND
I.
Down below,
A June morning full of promise
And tiny local strawberries.
A gold dog waits by our door,
Wondering where I am.
Books left open,
A bookmark marking my place, The plot forgotten.
Nineteen floors above
I’m tethered to a hospital bed.
Bedpans, IV bags, despair
Illuminated by buzzing fluorescent light.
Down below, Twilight filled
With flitting fireflies, bonfires
And sand castles falling into the sea.
Up here,
Iced air fogs the window,
Blocking out
The world.
The windows rattle as two floors above,
A helicopter lands on the roof,
Another life in jeopardy.
I’m 30 years old,
Too healthy to be here,
Except for a careless doctor’s slipped scalpel And a life undone.
Twitchy with fatigue,
Antibiotics stinging through my veins,
Turning my arms, wrists, hands Purple with bruises.
My brain fuzzy and stupid
From Demerol, the only thing that can numb the pain,
Me, who hardly takes aspirin in real life.
I’m alone.
Or as alone as you ever are,
Nurses poking and prodding,
Disembodied moans down the hall.
Earlier, as my fiance told a story
About something that happened at his restaurant,
I watched a blue dolphin mobile spin
In the cold breeze.
I’m marooned on a far shore,
Too weak to swim towards him.
When he leaves, I’m relieved.
Too drained to balance his sadness and mine.
Tomorrow morning
A brain surgeon will repair the hole in my head
That shoots shards of pain with any movement.
He will shave off my long hair
From forehead to ear
Saw into my skull
Lift up my brain
Patch the hole
Rest my brain back down
And staple my skull back together.
A battle scar of metal.
“A glorified plumber,” he calls himself.
On clean-up duty.
Side effects are listed on a clipboard: Loss of taste and smell
Brain damage
Death.
Who would accept these possibilities?
I do.
I need to go home,
Back to my life
Before this haunted hospital bed.
I take a deep breath
Filling my lungs with artificial air.
Exhale.
Reach for the papers
Scrawl my signature
Let the clipboard fall.
Take me.
II.
After, my world begins again.
Moments of joy, hard-won.
I wake in my own bed to the sound of birds
Instead of moans.
Soft summer air blows through the screen.
I sleep through the night
No one wakes me.
No bedpans.
My dog sits in the sun next to me for hours
As I run my hands through his fur,
Reading his body like a map
To guide me back.
We walk together a little farther each day,
His paws sinking in the soft sand
A tennis ball in his mouth
Tail wagging
As we head towards the bay.
Headaches roar, surge
And fall away.
III.
It will take a year
To shake off the lasting effects
Of the deadening anesthesia and anti-seizure medicine
Laying on my back for a month
In a narrow hospital bed.
IV.
On an autumn day,
I’m dressed in indigo velvet
Holding a bouquet of wildflowers,
Still fragile, still healing.
High above the ocean
We stand in the dunes
Surrounded by family and friends.
The minister holds our wedding bands high
Blessing them.
My new husband takes my hand
Places a gold ring on my finger.
My little Mohawk of hair
Blows in the ocean breeze.
But the sun is warm
As the wind pulls at us.
Undefeated.
