read a letter the one I never wrote I couldn’t send
let her catch her breath
know I wish I wrote Rosie wrote love me leave with me
let her climb a ladder leap into
a train instead of
the dusk the down the dark the dirt
how I wish her this blank page this snowed-in field
untouched by any hand or foot for
filling in or not a letter or not let her write a song and
slip into it draw a picture and step into that
landscape let her leave this behind let her run
away be angry and loud brave and alive
let her pull the trigger again and again and
on top of her nothing but the terrible stars.
Matthew Thorburn reads “Let Her”
Matthew Thorburn’s most recent book is The Grace of Distance, a finalist for the Paterson Poetry Prize. His previous book, Dear Almost, won the Lascaux Prize. He has new poems in Hotel Amerika, Prairie Schooner, The Southern Review and The Best American Poetry 2020. He lives in New Jersey.