Tacey M. Atsitty is a Diné poet from Cove, Ariz., but grew up in Kirtland, N.M., and reads “A February Snow.” She says the ideas that become poems start from place of quiet and her job is to cultivate the silence and be ready to pay attention when the seeds of a piece start to reveal themselves to her.
Tacey M. Atsitty: I think for me, I don’t really kind of see it as a well, like a place that I go to. It’s more like something that comes to me. And if I’m listening then I can catch it. It comes usually during when it’s quiet in my mind or just quiet in my space. And I see something, or I feel something and a line will come to me. The poems that I feel manifest themselves to me that want to be created or sculpted in a way, those are one that they come quickly and easily and there’s not a lot of crafting involved on my part. I was thinking a lot about the creator and how he created this earth with us in mind and how these parts of our lives all around us like snow or like rain and water are so beautiful aesthetically. Obviously, they have nutritional value and they give us life, but they’re also just aesthetically really beautiful in different forms. They help us focus on what’s most important.
A February Snow
I thought I knew love in every drag
of the tongue across icing, sparkle
in glaze, thought I went wading
into stars, pulling my dress up
to my knees— I get like this
when it precipitates: fall
like salt. Muscles in my back tear
to the point of floating, bearing
flakes. They come heavy now,
lacking grace, exposing the weight
my collarbones carry. The wind
can only lift so much with its song:
snow is a blessing; its color
amplifies silence, so you can hear
every crunch or offering of self:
a sugar cookie wrapped in napkin.
Alas, all that’s here: is a field
of snow & a napkin to cleanse
my lips of any leftover sweetness.
I ate that cookie for days, until I fell
brittle. It’s the time of year when I sink
into my armchair, into threads
of branches gone bare. It’s tough to tell
in this scene if it’s birth or dying
time. All I know is it’s the season
when wind comes crying, like a baby
whose head knocks a pew during the passing
of the sacrament, that silence—
her long inhale filling with pain.
About the author:
Tacey M. Atsitty is a Diné poet and has a PhD from Florida State University. She’s the author of two books: Rain Scald and (At) Wrist.
About the host:
Steven Law is the co-producer of KNAU’s series PoetrySnaps! He is a poet, essayist, storyteller, and the author of Polished, a collection of poems about exploring the Colorado Plateau by foot and by raft.
About the music:
Original music by Flagstaff-based band Pilcrowe.
Poetry Snaps is produced by KNAU Arizona Public Radio and airs the first and third Friday of each month.
