But I’m No One

for M. Maylor

 

Dear Anne Carson:

My friend read me the poem where your mom

said that the dead walk backwards.

You thought this myth arose from poor translation.

I can attest to your misapprehension.

My social studies teacher in grade 8, Ms. Rogers,

believed it was customary for the Chinese

to walk backwards when entering a washroom.

So when our class went to Silver Dragon for lunch,

that’s what we did, giggling, even if we didn’t have to go.

But in my family, we never believed this.

Where do ideas like that come from?

It’s true that regret looks back, that death’s shadow follows

us, and your only true companion is solitude,

whose clarity will fade to black.

It makes sense that the face of death must

be turned our way. We’re still here.

I have to read lots in order to find

what’s useful, Ms. Carson.

To walk backwards is to safeguard not knowing: in the end,

my striving can’t reach more than this. Than this.