Abigail Petersen

Runner-up for the Thomas McGrath Award for Poetry

Guest judge Roy Guzmán described Abigail Petersen’s poem “Let the Gods Look Away” as “a brilliant piece inspired by Kevin Young, who would be proud of this work. The line breaks are unique and fresh, the cry in this poem is urgent.”

A Haze 

Scooter, Caesar, Kenneth, and Dawn  
all died when I believed they’d live forever.  
Cancer swept through our house; a
bad dream that washed the sheets in 
unshed tears and hung them to dry on the quiet line.
I walked through classes like a  
shadow and nobody noticed my grades slip
or me stop talking.  

Scooter, Caesar, Kenneth, and Dawn  
all died before I could properly say goodbye, 
a haunting task to someone so young 
but  
my mother taught us to comfort the dying.
Nobody deserves to die alone.
So we kept those two in the house. 
Watched them stop eating and
eventually stop walking 
until the vet came and I watched their soul
go home.  

Scooter, Caesar, Kenneth, and Dawn
all died before my teens. 
The latter two fought hard at the end, 
a circle of family guarding them
from the reaper as the meds kicked in. 
I remember my grandfather singing in Swedish
and asking about his parents in a dying haze.  

Scooter, Caesar, Kenneth, and Dawn 
all died.  

The Family Tradition  

Tonight, 
we peel the garlic.
Flakes will fly around us  
and the air will stink
of the old ways. 

Tomorrow,
the pig will be killed
a slit throat in the morning
so the work can start in the afternoon.
Family will come in an array  
to get their shares of the dead animal,
a gathering long awaited 
to feed us for the year.  
I’ll watch the youngest 
and put on a nice show 
to hide my weary eyes
as my niece runs circles around our table, 
a small forest fire in a world filled with firefighters. 

On the third day,
we’ll vacuum seal the 
sausages and pork chops
and put them in piles for each family member,
until the next year,
when we get out the mason jars
and 
the ceremony begins again. 

Let the Gods Look Away  

After Kevin Young. 

Kevin,
You would allow a child to carry us 
to safety on a blind hope 
that whatever was watching, is watching 
would turn a blind eye to all this chaos.
All this hurt we’ve caused.  

Kevin,
did your mother never teach you
nothing comes without a price? 
To sing and repent when the world goes to shit?
Did you not listen
when the bees screamed out 
and the ice melted into the ocean.
Entire countries went up in flames 
and thousands dropped dead in the apocalypse; 
and the news flashed images of presidential candidates
while the kangaroos and koalas sprinted into people’s arms.   

Kevin,
this child you’ve chosen for us,
can he really save the world? 

About Abigail Petersen

Abigail Petersen is a freshman at UND studying to get a major in Criminal Justice and a minor in Sociology. She enjoys writing poetry, writing fantasy, and reading young adult novels. Her inspiration comes from her dogs, job, and various D&D campaigns.