By Ann Iverson
In my forest, I have a tree whose trunk splits near the sky to form a perfect sans-serif Y. And though I prefer serifs on all my letters from A to Z I’ll take what I can see today my own anointed Y. On this paper, it’s a tiny mantel where on top I place a candle, some books between two ends, a statue of an angel, and a photo of a friend. In my forest, the other trees turn to it for answers. Y must we lose our leaves? Y do we have to grow so old? Y are we used for fire? From my window for this page, I study Y’s anatomy. It’s outstretched arms and sturdy stem of it, I ask it nothing but give praise for yes and yet.
About the Author
Ann Iverson is a writer and artist. She is the author of five poetry collections: Come Now to the Window by the Laurel Poetry Collective, Definite Space and Art Lessons by Holy Cow! Press; Mouth of Summer and No Feeling is Final by Kelsay Books. She is a graduate of both the MALS and the MFA programs at Hamline University. Her poems have appeared in a wide variety of journals and venues including six features on Writer’s Almanac. Her poem “Plenitude” was set to a choral arrangement by composer Kurt Knecht. She is also the author and illustrator of two children’s books. As a visual artist, she enjoys the integrated relationship between the visual image and the written image. Her art work has been featured in several art exhibits as well as in a permanent installation at the University of Minnesota Amplatz Children’s Hospital. She is currently working on her sixth collection of poetry, a book of children’s verse, and a collection of personal essays.