Back to Spring 2025

Mary Oliver asks me what it is I am going to do

Kate Kobosko | Poetry, Spring 2025

with my one wild & precious life, in white

chalk, on a board centered above the dish bin.

today, I am making smoothies, taking food

orders, counting change from the till,

explaining the difference

between coconut milk & coconut water.

& tomorrow? Groceries, homework,

my turn to clean the bathroom.

today I will make it through this shift

& make something up to please Mary.

I’ll romance the details on my walk home

after I lock up: new england’s summer

hydrangeas, fragrant in the dark, salty

air that curls escaped strands of my hair

into a corkscrew. & what else would

she appreciate?

the sloping porch

of my duplex, the stillness of un-traffic

down Essex Street. surely, the killdeer

would be sleeping, although she’d relish

hearing their calls. maybe she would

like the sidewalk beneath my feet, charred

from the day’s heat, with tufts of weed

that wink at the cracks, desperate for a chance

to be considered, to be wild & precious.

__________________________________________

Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?

“There are few writers that make me feel as close to myself as I do when I read Mary Oliver. Reading her feels like connecting with my simplest, most elemental self. I hear her in my ear often as the seasons change and in bursts of gratitude. When I feel stifled, a poem is the place where I look for realignment. This particular poem is about a place where I no longer live, but it holds so many rich memories. That place, as all the other places I have lived, left a trace fossil within me that shows up in many of my poems. I love the idea that as a poet I leave trace fossils of myself, imbued with all the places and writers I've taken with me.”

Kate Kobosko is a writer and educator currently based in South Carolina. She holds an MFA from Emerson College. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in autofocus, Humana Obscura, Saltbush Review, The Crawfish, and others. Most days you can find her on the porch reading a good book beside her cat, Gator. You can find more of her work at katekobosko.com

Back to Spring 2025

Mary Oliver asks me what it is am I going to do

Kate Kobosko | Poetry, Spring 2025

with my one wild & precious life, in white

chalk, on a board centered above the dish bin.

today, I am making smoothies, taking food

orders, counting change from the till,

explaining the difference

between coconut milk & coconut water.

& tomorrow? Groceries, homework,

my turn to clean the bathroom.

today I will make it through this shift

& make something up to please Mary.

I’ll romance the details on my walk home

after I lock up: new england’s summer

hydrangeas, fragrant in the dark, salty

air that curls escaped strands of my hair

into a corkscrew. & what else would

she appreciate?

the sloping porch

of my duplex, the stillness of un-traffic

down Essex Street. surely, the killdeer

would be sleeping, although she’d relish

hearing their calls. maybe she would

like the sidewalk beneath my feet, charred

from the day’s heat, with tufts of weed

that wink at the cracks, desperate for a chance

to be considered, to be wild & precious.

________________________________________________________________________

Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?

“There are few writers that make me feel as close to myself as I do when I read Mary Oliver. Reading her feels like connecting with my simplest, most elemental self. I hear her in my ear often as the seasons change and in bursts of gratitude. When I feel stifled, a poem is the place where I look for realignment. This particular poem is about a place where I no longer live, but it holds so many rich memories. That place, as all the other places I have lived, left a trace fossil within me that shows up in many of my poems. I love the idea that as a poet I leave trace fossils of myself, imbued with all the places and writers I've taken with me.”

Kate Kobosko is a writer and educator currently based in South Carolina. She holds an MFA from Emerson College. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in autofocus, Humana Obscura, Saltbush Review, The Crawfish, and others. Most days you can find her on the porch reading a good book beside her cat, Gator. You can find more of her work at katekobosko.com