poem index

poet

Traci Brimhall

Printer-friendly version
Traci Brimhall
Tags: 

Traci Brimhall is the author of Saudade (Copper Canyon Press, 2017), Our Lady of the Ruins (W. W. Norton, 2012), and Rookery (Southern Illinois University Press, 2010). She is an assistant professor at Kansas State University and lives in Manhattan, Kansas.

by this poet

poem

Posters for the missing kapok tree appear on streetlights
offering a reward for its safe return. I hate to spoil it,

but the end of every biography is death. The end of a city
in the rainforest is a legend and a lost expedition. The end

of mythology is forgetfulness, placing gifts in the hole

poem
We crawl through the tall grass and idle light,

our chests against the earth so we can hear the river


underground. Our backs carry rotting wood and books

that hold no stories of damnation or miracles.


One day as we listen for water, we find a beekeeper—

one eye pearled by a cataract, the other cut out by
poem
I scare away rabbits stripping the strawberries
in the garden, ripened ovaries reddening 
their mouths. You take down the hanging basket 
and show it to our son—a nest, secret as a heart, 
throbbing between flowers. Look, but don’t touch, 
you instruct
2