A Farewell to Poetry Editor Maggie Swofford
by Co-Editor John Morris
This issue of Vita Poetica is the last for Poetry Editor Maggie Swofford, who has set our standards and tone for poetry since 2020 – since the journal began, in fact. Her artistic discrimination, hard work, and unfailing cheerfulness have been a joy for all of us here at the journal. Maggie will be pursuing her career as a marketing manager for a travel company in Cambridge, MA, and also looking forward to “opening up more space and time for creativity to be able to find me in whatever form it takes: poetry, collaging, fashion, or perhaps even new manifestations!”
We are despondent to see Maggie go, though she leaves with our every blessing on her new journey. One bright spot: Now that Maggie is no longer our poetry editor, we can print one of her fine poems! (VP’s editorial policy precludes selecting work from staff.) About “The Door,” Maggie writes: “This is one of those poems that felt like it chose me. It represents my grief and the beauty in finding new paths forward, but also aptly names how this new season in my life feels: doors opening ‛in every direction / in every moment.’ Vita Poetica was such a beautiful door, and I can’t overstate how grateful I am to have been a part of shepherding our incredible poets we’ve published through it as well.”
The Door
by Maggie Swofford
I look into the woods. There is a door.
The light on the freckled skin of my tall
quiet friends creates an opening. I want
to turn back. I remember Michigan.
The hundred steps down to the lake
was my first door. You met me under
the blue and yellow lifeguard chair.
I remember how I walked through
that door and smelled the keen woods
watching me laugh. I ignored them.
I remember when it was so easy to get to.
I walked through it, unknowing. When
I looked later, after the trees buried
their pain on top of mine, I quit
searching. I thought it was easier to stop.
I thought doors were horizontal and
vertical. Now they open in every direction
in every moment. Especially now. In
your watery smile gleaming far away across
a lemon tablecloth. In a cloud opening
a childhood thought. In a firefly floating
beside me. I could catch it. The night opens
slowly and closes as swiftly. I am here, with
the door still moving through the woods.
I remember you walking through it steadily
ahead of me. I climb through with my eyes
and wait for my body. The wind presses
against me against the door. The door’s eyes
follow me. The door looks at its skin, freckled.
It’s your skin. The door leans away from me,
toward the night. The door whispers.
The door shuts.
And finally: We’re happy to announce that our new poetry editor is poet and editor Lynn Domina, whose work has appeared in VP, and who has wide experience in the world of literary journals.
