Sept/Oct 2015 • Vol. XXXVII No. 5 Poetry |

Love Letter to Nike Alighting on a Warship

I could not know how like the drone you would become, standing below your grandeur, in 2008, at the Louvre. Eyeless, mouthless—Good Girl! Broken Goddess! You were already, were still, the woman commemorating a man's war. All breast to mark man's arête, Hellenistic in a fierce headwind, drama and theater. You, sentinel, see all. Here, wrote Rilke, there is no place that does not see you. Funny how Apollo, god of truth and light, becomes your brother without a head. Poetry and war speechless. The world—Dickinson in a letter—is sleeping in ignorance and error. At night, now, the unmanned machines still have to, somewhere, touch down. Grounded, men stroke them with their own hands. Stand back, a docent warned me then. You're getting, he said, too close to her.

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Corey Van Landingham
Corey Van Landingham is the author of Antidote. A recipient of a 2017 National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship and a Wallace Stegner Fellowship from Stanford University, she is currently a Book Review Editor for Kenyon Review.

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