You worshippers of symmetry—
even the stains you leave
pint glass teacup
are suffocatingly regular—
ponder
my rugged island
its raw crevices
and credit
wind rockfall
No. I
chose which stones to adorn
with languid roots
High above your harbor
I danced with hemlock
hammocked raccoons
lifted a last inch
when eagle searched out a perch
Fingers trace my lines
sign
Beautiful
see
no more of me
than footprint
Bend close
catch
echo of thrush
warbler whistle
surf’s infinite drum
—
Kelly Lenox (The Brightest Rock, 2017) writes poetry and prose in Oregon. Her work appears in Poetry Daily, Black Warrior Review, Cold Mountain, RHINO, EcoTheo Review and elsewhere in the U.S. and Europe. She is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee, with an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts. Kelly publishes “Mama Ephemera’s Muddy Feet” on Substack (kellylenox.substack.com) and is a science editor at the National Institutes of Health.
