—After CMarie Fuhrman
I paddle my canoe out from the shoreline
in weakening daylight. Mayflies shimmy
their Mobius mating flight. Molten gold evening
darkens to aubergine. Eddies echo a single loon’s
wild call flowing on air currents.
The lone bird, waterborne, trusts what to me
is terrifying night—the lake’s surface
only a reflection of the universe—my canoe’s
weight slight as a milkweed pod, my body
the leftover floss of eons of nighttimes.
Rain, at first a few patters, begins a samba—
tip-toeing, delicate as a water insect’s touchdown.
Deep below our earth turns—spinning down
and lower down to the ruddy core.
My sisters and I dance the ecstatic dance of our youth.
From four sharp compass points we sway in unison—
Atlantic and Pacific shushing waves our chorus.
Kelp forests undulate with our aging bodies
sea creatures blossom in deep-sea canyons.
Night becomes us. Bathed in starlight, we harbor
inland, our mother still with us. How will it end,
this dream of forever? A few more nights of wonder—
a miracle to circle back into each other’s arms.
Rain, a torrent now, beats its drum in time to washed stars.
Even in this deluge, I float on water
dark as licorice night and my quiet canoe drifts
toward the opposite shore.
Dale Champlin is an Oregon poet with an MFA in fine art. Many of her poems have appeared in The Opiate, Timberline Review, Willawaw, CatheXis, and other publications. Her poetry collections are: The Barbie Diaries, Callie Comes of Age, Isadora, and Andromina: A Stranger in America.
Dear Reader, Who knew that a can-can dancer from the posters of Toulouse Lautrec would…
Eternal Return A crocus from the rotting flesh of a hedgehog, placed with the pansies…
Full Moon at Montmartre Claudette’s a can-can girl high-kickin’ it under the red windmill. She…
In the Light of Peace --painting by Bruce King of the Oneida Nation The travelers…
A Quad of Golden Shovels Internal Conversation at the beginning of Winter Wet and beautiful…