Irene Fick
I was in this room once. It is a difficult room. I left this on the table for you. I hope it helps.
– Richard Siken
The Fragility of Winter
This pale winter light now lingers, elongates
the day. Colorless skies teem with the rites
of snow geese, unfettered, on course. I cross
a vacant beach, follow the trail, behold
the old buck tucked into the brush, wary and still
safe from the hunter’s fire. I seek cool relief
from December’s inferno: blazing reds and greens
a broken family soldered to its myths, fantasies
of faith resurrected for one holy night.
Let me fade into this stripped-down stage
of grays, washed-out whites, let go of the losses
that bring me to my knees, lock me in place.
Reviews
The poems in Irene Fick's The Wild Side of the Window are artful, compact, and often funny, even when contending with grim subject matter.
James Arthur
Irene Fick’s poems touch on many of poetry’s most enduring subjects—family, memory, aging, love, and loss—but with unexpected verve and blinding flashes of humor and wisdom.
Sue Ellen Thompson
Fick is a writer of observation, but more, of felt life . . . To be able to show hard glimpses of reality with beauty and truth is a gift many poets have not achieved.
Grace Cavalieri