Eagle Rock
This is the place where darkness gathers like a swarm,
as thick as hide, as soft.
This is where the dead lean like tallgrass,
eyelashes bleached and fluttering,
where the breast-high grass leans into the night.
This is where the skin of Buffalo Berries in the evening,
eveningyellow,
is not so sweet.
It is a place of burnt leaves, of quarrymint, of watercress.
It is a place of narrow footholds, and foothills, of swollen feet,
a place of cattails, gutted white and open.
It is a place of rattlesnake sheddings, like crisp honeycomb,
of ankledeep streams, and cold tongues.
A place where muscle-red pipestone teeth thrust from the earth,
gleam from centuries of Bison fur-rubbings,
and rain.
I am born here, was born here, will always be born here,
and here my hazel opals will ever shut,
and screaming like a wind, my bodyslick will slide, again
into the world.
And here, the moss will suck my cheekbones dry,
and they will flake and fall like lichen,
and I will die here, too.
This is where all my candles have been gathered, lit,
and in the dark are rocking, rock with me
in their arabesque of light.
This is the place where all I have stolen or hidden, I have gathered here.
This is where all of me is gathered.
***
Hi Friends,
"Eagle Rock" was written by Bly Pope and first published anonymously in the spring 2002 issue of my beloved Masque magazine. You can read more from Bly (and check out paintings from both Bly and his twin Rowan) at popebrothersart.com.
April
is National Poetry Month, and I am celebrating by emailing out my own
eclectic selection of one poem per day for the duration of the month. You can
always learn more about National Poetry Month or sign up for a more
official-like poem-a-day list at www.poets.org, the website of
the Academy of American Poets.
Enjoy.
Ellen
Labels: Earth Day, NPM