A deluge of droplets
after months of scalding sun,
the little that’s left of us stomping
two-by-two through swollen waters.
Oh the corporate histories
written here, eulogized
in ruin and rust, a land plucked
and pimped, targets stapled
to our hillbilly backs.
Drylanders, smug, clueless
shake confused heads, ask
why don’t you move?
Here our measuring cups
are Holy Writ, our covenants
carried on tongues, roots
pleached, washed in the blood,
a chemistry of all who dwelt before us.
Here even toddlers know
the alchemy of survival,
how to spit-chew a jewelweed poultice
to sooth a bite or sting,
yarrow fronds to calm a scraped knee.
A gang of crows chase a hawk,
insects I will never learn all the names of
skate the surface of this drowned ground
thinking they can trust the journey.
A kingfisher swoops in like King Coal,
swallows up all he possibly can,
swaggers his fat belly skyward.
—
Ohio Poet Laureate Kari Gunter-Seymour is the author of four collections of poetry and is the recipient of a POTY Award, Storytrade Award, Legacy Award, and Best Book Award. She is a Pillars of Prosperity Fellow for the Foundation for Appalachian Ohio, a member of the Ohio Advisory Group of the National Museum of Women in The Arts, the Executive Director of the Women of Appalachia Project, and is the editor of its anthology series Women Speak. Her work has been featured in a number of periodicals and journals including the American Book Review, World Literature Today, The New York Times and Poem-a-Day. Find her at www.kariguterseymourpoet.com.
