Friday, January 26, 2018

Greg McLaren #3, Offshore, after Kit Kelen's "open the hatches of the egg"


 
          Offshore

After Kit Kelen/After Ed Wright

Who were they,
the people who loved
that wide green country,
underwater now
a long time?
                     The far far ice
unfurling its long slow
banners of wash and wake?
Pouring the coast’s broad
forested band into an untimid
ocean, tipping those
remembered places under glass,
into undertow?
                         The sky-wide rivers’
broad and salty mouths flushed open
testing how the time, so thick
and covering here,
rocks and eddies about, here,
and here.
                Past there, west
somewhere, the moving water’s
flanked by sandstone walls and
dips through shade
into a narrowing valley.
                                     How long
did the trees take on their long
die-off, salt-poisoned, even as
they still stood on the sloshing tongue,
that slow tsunami, & who
watched over their old land
from receding coasts, not even
beach yet, let alone beach
the thing we make it, but
the bitter refuge of high ground
as it slowly islanded out,
the snaking waves making a new sound
to sing this place,
spilling darkening light
over the places of the old
songs.
           Was there time enough
for the relict mangroves to up their
fingery roots, before they were shushed under
            with curls of brittle breakers?

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