Sharon Carter
Originally from the U.K., Sharon M. Carter retired from a career in healthcare. A fortunate recipient of a Hedgebrook residency, her poems have been published online and in many journals, including Pontoon, Raven Chronicles, Wild Roof Journal, Quartet, and One Art. Her book Quiver was published by Tebot Bach in 2002.
2024 Jack Straw Alumni Poetry Series:
Drawing from her background as a physician, Sharon Carter’s poems reflect her understanding of the body and its relationships. Whether she writes about mist unwinding like homespun in India, cicadas at a paleolithic cave or “a honey bee who believes your mouth an orchid,” her voice is precise and honest.
Aasgard Pass
Alpine Lakes Wilderness
For V.B.
Stars puncture an indigo night.
Our footsteps clatter in couplets
over granite boulders—glittering
hornblende fused with quartz.
At the pass our plumed breath rises
into icescape, the moon, a milky-white
cataract in sky’s retina. My axe fractures
a frozen lake. Cracks radiate, probe
the black veneer like the blight
on your mammogram. The shock
of cold water! I carve a smooth clean
circle, fill steel pans. We pitch tent,
unfurl sleeping bags, our spines pressed
to the earth as we pivot toward morning.
