How, when a heart is dropped along the way
And you can’t get it back, do you go on?
You walk and eat and breathe, and every day
Do all your work, and when a clever con
Is run on you, it’s only one more sting.
But when the sky greys down at dusk, a beat
Is faintly heard. You think that anything
Which once held the lost heart is incomplete,
As air resounds through that cold cavity.
But lips still speak, you chatter when you must
As any primate does, until you see
That your hand grips a pen, and this is just
What they predicted, should you lose your heart —
That foolish and inconsequential part.
- A former Wilbur Fellow and six-time nominee for a Pushcart award, in 2007, she has published three books, Measured By Song, Making Music.
As one of two finalists in the 2013 Aldrich Press Poetry Book Award, Cook was awarded publication of the manuscript for The View From Here, her third book
I During Poetry Week 2014, The Poetry Collecftion at SUNYAB, Buffalo, published Cook’s chapbook of her work.
Poems and essays by Sally Cook have appeared in numerous magazines and journals such as Blue Unicorn, Chronicles, First Things, The Formalist Portal, Light Quarterly, Lighten Up Online, National Review, Pennsylvania Review, Trinacria and other venues, both print and electronic.
The poet is also a painter of Magic Realist paintings. She began as an exhibitor in Manhattan’s Tenth Street Co-operative Galleries, moved into geometrics and went on from there. Her work has been exhibited at many leading galleries and museums and represented in national collections.