by Felicia McCarthy
“Where I’m From” by Felicia McCarthy, and found in the magazine’s 16th issue, is a wonderful poem about…well, where she’s from. The poem describes legacy, roots, and childhood. It speaks about perseverance and is naturally relatable to those who not only grew up in Ashtabula, but rural Ohio. This poem is both serene and honest, you couldn’t ask for better qualities in poetry.
(for Margaret McDonough)
I am from corn, hot Ohio miles of it. And the smell of ether
seeping from a black leather bag stashed on top of the fridge.
I am from pony men and card sharks, drunks and steam engine train drivers.
I’m from blue pencil marks on galley proofs, created on an upright Royal.
I am from screen doors slapping against armies of Canadian soldiers
every June. I am from the dog days of August, the ice storms of winter,
the frozen mud trenched roads of spring.
I am from a lake that died and a river that burned,
from The Erie, The Cuyahoga, and a town called Ashtabula.
I am from ore boats and the fog horns sounding long and lonely
as they herd the hulls of boats into their lanes. I am from the Bascule bridge,
the brick yards, the railway yards, and a back yard that was the lake.
I’m from The Mother of Sorrows, The Confraternity of Christian
Mothers, and the Sisters of the Holy Humility of Mary.
I’m from a ham-fisted man with a fedora and a black skirted priest;
both with whiskey breath and an enviable reach.
I am from among her effects:
The loose powder box made of pasteboard,
stuffed with letters from her Iowa mother,
My dearest Girl, she wrote, and Dear Grand Girl.
I am from Mayo’s Foot of the Reek
to the Allegheny farm on the Black Creek
still walking on from the Great Famine of 1845.
Felicia McCarthy is a poet who has been published in several anthologies. She was born and raised in Ashtabula, though she how lives and works in the West of Ireland.