—Poems and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
HERE IN THIS HOUSE
it’s a rush. Latches in my lap at the laptop typing
bbnnnbbbbbbv as kitty-poem, tickling my nose with
black-kink tail as I pick letter by letter toward what
might become verse. Loki lies alert in dog patience,
not understanding why an alien (feline) has free run
of the house her home where mice run at night top-
pling dog-cookie jars scattering pens across carpet
leaving mouse-scat everywhere. Hence our wish for
a cat. Latches was called Jacks by his former humans
but we couldn’t remember the name so you chose
Latch to rhyme with Hatch, and I prefer the lilt of
Latches. Loki was named for mischief and shape-
shifting but she’s no longer a pup and can’t accept
a home whose space shifts to shape of kitten. This
is the state of our house with multitude mouse.
THE HORSE, THE TRAIL
What kind of ride is this? so hurried
on a borrowed horse; my friend up ahead
talking nonstop, ready to canter
and I’m just getting tuned to my mare’s gait,
how she responds to rein, pressure
of hand and knee, how I adjust and lean
with her and the trail. But there’s
that incessant talking up-front about
everything but horse and trail.
My friend’s got a hot-seat in saddle
wired electric to her gelding. My borrowed
mare knows I’m here to enjoy her
morning. You can’t talk and ride at the
same time, someone told me.
Today I’m riding my horse on the trail.
ONE MORE AIR QUALITY DAY
on “Dinner for Two in One Month of Smog”
by Kim Abeles
Prepare the table
on the roof? white linen cloth
spotless all these years.
We’ve lived here so carefully
inside our walls under sky.
Sun on porcelain
heirloom plates from your mother,
grandmothers before….
They lived before the sky turned
foggy-dark on a clear day.
What will you serve us
for dinner on this cloth, these
fine china dishes?
We will dine on white printed
with smog designs from the sky.
MYSTERIOUS WAYS
Is “Forest Preserve” an oxymoron
in this world a-rush with the pro and con
of climate change? Over my head, clouds pass
with no promise of rain. Above the pass,
snowless November—oxymoron
or deadly rub of Fate? How shall we con-
serve gifts that we turn toxic? and how con-
vert mistakes to rehab? Trails diverge, pass
beyond our reason like oxymoron.
Oxymoron? Pre-serve? Con-serve? Trees pass.
WOODS CABIN
From deep under the floor, a keening
echo of pine trees in a hard wind,
roots holding for purchase, as when they
hear the saw bringing down a brother.
The crying intermittent, not ending,
from underneath—a winter’s den
weeping. Today I found bare foot prints
in mud, as if hands; studded with tidy
claws; digit-stubs reaching forward
in gravel that used to be dirt road; soon
to be paved. Can we sit here at home
when under us the pinewood floor
moans like a memory? As if the walls
were breathing, planed wood still vibrant.
A chord, maybe voice of bear and pine
tree united in plaint. Open the door,
nothing’s there walking, creeping, or
flying. A flurry of leaves. How long can
we live here, at home inside walls
not airtight, not impervious to crying?
HUNTER, PREY
Yesterday the hawk made our gatepost
come alive—sudden launch into air,
then accipiter flap-flight
to tree-line and into deeper woods.
Hawk makes songbirds scarce,
scouts the rocks for snakes,
and lizards beware.
Today, twitch-nose on our deck,
long-eared leaper—small
enough for hawk to get.
Not wild, but hanging around,
not to be caught. Rabbit
or hare? Someone’s pet? Begging
gentleness; or escape of untamed heart?
Today’s LittleNip
MEETING FOX
—Taylor Graham
From shadow to shadow into light
as briefly as a flash at midnight—
broad morning. Hot-breath hunting. A slight
shifting of focus, wild-beast eye right
into mine. Human needs names. “Fox!” I thought
to box the vision, to hold it bright.
___________________
Thank you, Taylor Graham, for today’s elegant poems and photos about rushing and other ecopoems. About her work, Taylor writes: “There's some rushing [Medusa’s recent Seed of the Week] in a couple of these poems... ‘Meeting Fox’ was inspired by Dah [Medusa’s recent post of his work] and accompanying fox photos; it's a hir a thoddaid (one of those foxy Welsh forms). ‘Mysterious Ways’ is a tritina. ‘Woods Cabin’ is a rewrite of a poem from the old conversation between myself, Katy Brown, and D.R. Wagner, I think in response to one of DR’s poems. Your recent ekphrastic cabin reminded me of this one—mysterious ways of a poem.”
For more about the hir a thoddaid, go to www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/hir-thoddaid-poetic-form/. As for eco poetry, see www.scarlettanager.com/fire-and-rain.html for info about the new Fire and Rain anthology, and don’t forget that there will be a reading from it this coming Sunday at Davis Arts Center, 2pm.
Tonight, Joey Garcia will read at Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe, plus open mic, 8pm. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
—Medusa
—Anonymous Varmint Photo
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