Carolyn Forché, “Skin Canoes” …

carolyn_forche scarf
 
 
Carolyn Forché
 
 
“Skin Canoes”

Swallows carve lake wind,
trailers lined up, fish tins.
The fires of a thousand small camps
spilled on a hillside.

I pull leeks, morels from the soil,
fry chubs from the lake in moonlight.
I hear someone, hear the splash, groan
of a waterpump, wipe my mouth.
Fish grease spits at darkness.

Once I nudged a canoe through that water,
letting its paddle lift, drip.
I was sucked down smaller than the sound
of the dropping, looked out
from where I had vanished.
 
 
 
***
 
 
 

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~ by samofthetenthousandthings on September 22, 2015.

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