Water and Straw
I’d been walking the floor of the ocean all night
mapping the terrain with the soles of my feet,
the current’s direction as it moved through my hair.
At dawn I rose, the weight of me unearthly.
Mapping the terrain with the soles of my feet
I saw you standing in the orchard.
At dawn I rose, the weight of me unearthly.
Water poured from my ears, pooling on the hardwood floor.
I saw you standing in the orchard
a whelp of red apples circling you like a rising crown.
Water poured from my ears, pooling on the hardwood floor
as I made myself lift against gravity.
A whelp of red apples circled you like a slipped crown.
You were back in that place where you do not know who you are.
I made myself lift against gravity,
let the earth pull me into place.
You were back in that place where you do not know who you are.
I thought I should call you in to the house, to the room with its four walls
let the earth pull you into place
while the birds ladle their song into the morning.
I thought I should call you in to the house, to the room with the four walls
you knew inside and out, bend you into its container.
The birds ladled their song into the morning
as I walked myself forward towards the tasks of the day.
You knew it inside and out, bent yourself into its container
let it smooth your wilding eyes with its shielded windows.
I walked myself into the tasks of the day—
its square root rhythms, its amnesia about the morning star.
You let it smooth your wilding eyes with its shielded windows,
let the sun sifting its yellow through the curtains bring you home, walk you
into its square root rhythms, its amnesia about the morning star.
I left, drove a car, turned corners, purchased a straw broom.
You let the sun sifting it’s yellow through the curtains bring you home
I heard chainsaws, barking dogs, smelled the undercurrents of damp roots.
I drove a car, turned corners, purchased a straw broom,
and later, I swept the house clean.
• • •
Carol Tiebout lives in Edmonds, Washington on the traditional land of the Coastal Salish peoples. Her work can be found in New Ohio Review, in Calyx Journal of Art and Literature and on The American Jewish Historical Society website. She won the 2022 poetry award from the Soul-Making Keats Literary Competition. Her poetry is informed by seventeen years of work with hospice.