SOUTHERN HUMANITIES REVIEW
  • HOME
    • EVENTS
    • Pushcart Prize Nominees
    • RESULTS: Auburn Witness Poetry Prize Honoring Jake Adam York 2022
    • RESULTS: Editors Chapbook Prize for Fiction 2021
  • CURRENT ISSUE
    • ONLINE FEATURES
    • REVIEWS
    • STORE
  • ARCHIVES
    • The 1960s
    • The 2010s
    • The 2020s
  • SUBMISSIONS
    • Submit
    • Auburn Witness Poetry Prize
  • ABOUT
  • HOME
    • EVENTS
    • Pushcart Prize Nominees
    • RESULTS: Auburn Witness Poetry Prize Honoring Jake Adam York 2022
    • RESULTS: Editors Chapbook Prize for Fiction 2021
  • CURRENT ISSUE
    • ONLINE FEATURES
    • REVIEWS
    • STORE
  • ARCHIVES
    • The 1960s
    • The 2010s
    • The 2020s
  • SUBMISSIONS
    • Submit
    • Auburn Witness Poetry Prize
  • ABOUT
Search by typing & pressing enter

YOUR CART

POETRY

Whiteout Conditions

By Chelsea Dingman





Vertical Divider
​No visible horizon.
I drive to the end 
of the world. A heart, the only dark
object. Shadow as reflection 
& dislocation. White cloud layer 
as snow. As my mother’s hair. Skin-
light: an arc of moon. The child 
in my mind’s eye. I have spent
my life explaining. My mother, left 
in some field. The car, stuck
in the snow. The guardrail, 
unharmed. I have spent my life being defined 
by what leaves, what arrives. Invisible
to the heart. Driving into the storm
where I was born. Where 
to begin again—where? Not a tree 
in sight. Not another car. 
I have spent my life trying to find
a home, but I fear being found 
will make no difference. The moon, an eye
in the snow. I struggle to keep 
the car on the road. The tires
tug me toward the guardrails. 
Sweating, the snow appears 
as light. As a child, 
I thought I could swallow it 
& become the world. Carceral, 
this act of disappearance. Snow-
light: a haze of bodies 
passing each other 
without seeing. At a turn,
the storm leaps. I slow. 
Each mile, moving further 
away, I used to want 
to know where I began. Now, 
I only want somewhere
to soften against me. Axe.
Peony. Poplar. Light.
Picture

About This Unit: Poems on Family and Finding Other Lines of Symmetry



CHELSEA DINGMAN’s first book, Thaw, was chosen by Allison Joseph to win the National Poetry Series (University of Georgia Press, 2017). Her second poetry collection, Through a Small Ghost, won The Georgia Poetry Prize (University of Georgia Press, 2020). She is also the author of the chapbook, What Bodies Have I Moved (Madhouse Press, 2018). Visit her website: chelseadingman.com.
​ 

CURRENT ISSUE
SUBMIT
EVENTS
ARCHIVES
STORE

Vertical Divider

CONTACT
SOUTHERN HUMANITIES REVIEW
9088 HALEY CENTER
AUBURN UNIVERSITY
AUBURN, AL 36849

shr@auburn.edu
334.844.9088

Vertical Divider
Official trademark of Auburn University

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH
COLLEGE OF LIBERAL ARTS