Camped beneath Hells Canyon Dam
last night it started raining.
I moved my head outside the tent
and let rain fill the hollows of my eyes.
I never saw lightning but heard thunder
roll from beneath me, the earth
upside down, hooves of animals
bolting through clouds
it started raining lamprey and sturgeon
it rained so hard last night I was young again.
It rained so hard the earth moved
from the graves of my grandparents
their bones started dancing on the rocks
dancing like hail.
It rained so hard the river was young again.
Neither of us had our second names
we chewed dirt with our first teeth
we ran together with salmon, steelhead
the shores lifted their skirts at our passing—
last night the rain brought back my grandmother
she put my head in her lap
she told me stories, she told me carp
sucked the bones of my grandfather
her tears filled my eyes. Her braids tickled
my cheeks.
This morning the skies are clear. A fly dances
on my nose. In the flooding light I move earth
worms from the trail. Sometimes
I toss their wet brown bodies back into the river.
Reprinted from her chapbook, Camped Beneath the Dam: Poems, with the author’s permission.
