Smith Blue Quotes

“PRAYER FOR P- (excerpt)

I’ll claim cartographer’s liberties. I’ll claim
omissions for the greater good. I am grateful
my imagination has been drafted for the greater good,
especially since what I mean to do is direct. I want to

be your guide. In those unknown parts, they drew danger- sea scorpions,
enormous octopi, leviathan- but also wonders, rising suns. The open sea is just that,
open. My dictionary has sixty-four definitions for the word open,
none of them defining how I feel now, my heart

a little more open because without her,
not the memory of her, the knowledge, not the insubstantial
decoys my mind sets up in lieu of her, but without the woman,

friend, her embodied body, without her this space is a little more
open…those old map makers wanted us to want,
almost as much as they wanted us to fear,
to get to the places beyond the places we know. This is the way,
how we have always found more.”
― Camille T. Dungy, Smith Blue

“FLIGHT (excerpt)

You slid into the summer of my sleeping, crept
into my lonely hours, ate the music of my dreams.
…
It is the time of the waking cold, when buckeyes,
Like a thousand thousand metronomes, take time,
and you, fat on my summer sleep, twitter toward me,
walk away. It is the time for the parting of our days.”
― Camille T. Dungy, Smith Blue

“ASSOCIATION COPY (excerpt)

Who can help the heart, which is grand and full
of gestures? …
The whole year I spent loving him, something splendid
as lemons, sour and bright and leading my tongue
toward new language, was on the book shelf…
We make habits out of words. I grew accustomed
to his, the way they spooned me into sleep so many times.”
― Camille T. Dungy, Smith Blue

“EMERGENCY PLAN

First we decided where to meet.
The fire was coming and I knew

what we would need: flashlights,
water, condoms, and a shot

of our imaginary son. Only, what we used to call
our peeping birds startled me into starting days

long before the city bus commenced its run.
That’s when I knew we hadn’t done enough

in case the sky fell while I was driving,
and I packed a pair of panties, matches,

some aspirin in the trunk. I secreted
trail mix, shekels, and seed to plant

after the revolution was over
and done, I made sure we remembered

where we planned to mee, taught us
to swim in case we came near water

when it decided to flood. But those damned birds
with their nesting scattered on the patio

were eventually the most reliable alarm,
and, only to level the threat, I fashioned a carryall

from the pillowcase I no longer slept on.
I filled it: tinned meat and crackers, chocolate,

a little musk so I can recall
how we smelled before this end was begun.”
― Camille T. Dungy, Smith Blue

“AFTER OPENING THE NEW YORK TIMES I WONDER HOW TO WRITE A POEM ABOUT LOVE

To love like God can love, sometimes.
before the kettle boils to a whistle, quiet. Quiet
that is lost on me, waiting as I am
for an alarm. The sort of things I notice:
the bay over redbud blossoms, mountains
over magnolia blooms. There is always something
starting somewhere, and I have lost ambition
to look into the details. Shame fits comfortably
as my best skirt, and what can I do
but walkaround in that habit? Turn the page.
Turn another page. This was meant to be
about love. Now there is nothing left but this.”
― Camille T. Dungy, Smith Blue