---------------------------------------
With or without you

This is the fear; sit with him,
Here. Nothing you must do, you say
Again, to yourself. Nothing. Simple,
But here you go, dusting,
Arranging knick-knacks above
This too-narrow bed while he
Stands there, just inside the door
He’s closed behind him, hat in hand.
You suspect he could wait all day,
in fact, will. With a toothbrush you could
Clean this entire house.

There is something he wants you to do.
That‘s what he said last time you met,
When he held your face in his hands
Like a father. You remember that moment.

Your vision blurs, you grip the gathered
Feathers, continue dusting, while your heart
Turns without you.

Ellen Marie Metrick, 4.21.11
-------------------------------------------
One word at a time
                ~ for Earth
Health is a hue of truth;
its brightest blue, its green,
a gold tooth in the mountain
a trial by fire in the human
race. All who have entered
find running least effective;
standing in place a pace
that makes fast strides
towards deep ties.
Ellen Marie Metrick 4.22.11

----------------------------------------------
Not up to us
“How could I have lived so long / If I had not known that day / Was bound to come in the end?” – Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin

We build our castles in the grand style,
Manicured gardens and imagined moats
From inside our dark homes; we tell ourselves
We will find day when we find the way out.
In that imagined light, we see how tall we’ll sit
On our glowing steed, how our armor
Will glint and shine after stooping,
crouching with hardscrabble arachnids,
ears punched with the crunch and stutter
of this web, sound of doubt strangling desire.

The fisherman knows the castles are bait;
caught fish will be head-struck, gutted,
Eaten around the fire at dark.

What if this seaweed forest
Is just where we live, a tunnel in the lava
Flow, and in the end
It is not a dangling salmon egg
But the current itself — even weeds
Bow to its power — the current
that one day pulls us
from under-boulder dark
into sun-glittered stream.
Ellen Marie Metrick 4.23.11
--------------------------------------------

All day rain, snow, clouds
Break. From the corner fencepost,
Clearly, meadowlark.
4.24 Elle M
------------------------------------------------
The boy, the girl, the dogs

It’s choice
Each moment
To be here, all stride
And pant and lifting voice
Saying what it is we want
As if we’ve never known
As if we hadn’t been the ones
To pile the brush and duff
Of story, of i-don’t-know,
Of I am afraid.
The stalks of this earth
Are sprouting, the wombs
Will soon fill, green become
A weight, skies clear.
EMM 4.25.2011
------------------------------------------------------
Feeling

It’s so messy
       a tangle viney
                windy
       a tessera of bailing twine
                orange session with wine
here, take an end
                    make words
          one more method
          a harness for excuses
          not to make them look beautiful
make us look beneath
desire
where
stars still guide us
emm 4.26
--------------------------------------------------------
Stories are just pins
Holding up a dress as big
As this star-strewn sky
(Let's take it off, look
each other in the eye)
emm 4.27
 ------------------------------------
Almost May

The window above the kitchen sink
Crowded with snowflakes like cold children
Wanting in. Red. A solo mango winks,
Then stares.

4.28.11. EMM
------------------------------------------------------------
Lunch in spring storm

More complaints than snowflakes today
As green spears poke through heavy wet while
Golden currant flowers shine small flames

To the north and the west, a wall
Of storm churns dark, horizon gone
To seed

In my red bowl, last fall’s
Hawkswing mushrooms (Hidenum imbricatum)
Gathered with whistling kids
Nudge beet greens I plucked yesterday
In the hailstorm from my garden
Store-bought yellow squash
And miso for stock; nothing ever
Tasted so good.

4.29 (from 4.26 lunch) EMM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Is that what woke me?
This bud of a moon rising,
frost at 5 a.m.
emm 4.30

Two for today

(untitled)

Is this my needle, my north

this sorrow by birth, the worth

of my howl, my how? Only now

as the trail peaks mountain

do I find mind giving way

to sky, hawks hooking way

from why; oh, high stones;

oh, cairn of my woe, this

burrow, this hoed row rolls

me under tow. Only a bat

could find me now. I am

naught but sound, waving

this exquisite existence,

this pittance, a glitter

in sky’s blue skirt.

emm 4.19.11

Visible

I see you. Yes. You are

the impossible route

up granite, seen only

one move at a time,

found more by fingertip

than eye.

I see you. Yes. You are

the line through trees

in deep powder, seen

then lost, visible

to the knees, a sense

of give and take.

I see you. Yes. You are

the smooth tongue,

the reflection of sky

leading the way through

white churn water

where the line is fine,

a single oar-dip

between slide

and flip.

Ellen Marie Metrick

4.20.11

Today

Meadowlarks at midnight

They call out at midnight; lovers,

Rivals, dreamers, a clear liquid light

In deep dark, they circle your sleep

Wingbeats of lost kin. Mornings

Find them carrying sunlight

To each fencepost, breastbones

Resonating memory.

All day they translate

A forgotten journey as if

Pinfeathers could sprout

From your eyelids

As if your fingers were

Small flames, lit wicks pricking

Deep-cave dark.

Ellen Marie Metrick

4.14.11

Sound of two hands catching

The bat flutters

       from the dry mouth of her cave

       seeing a certain angle

of sound,

       and today

                I was your dinner.

   I felt your sonar

           bounce

              so that suddenly I was known

to myself

         as edible.

Ellen Marie Metrick

4/12/11

Beginning, as always, again: first of more

Today, the meadowlarks

                                For Japan, in spring

Imagine

                You wake up

         And the whole sky is

                Blown open

        The roof gone.

                You had plans today.

      But there goes the car

                On a wave of

     Someone else’s plans, and now —

                Now, the whole house is moving

Around you

     Nothing any longer

     Stands still

                Except you.

                You, for this moment

                   With your feet planted

                In full meeting with

The concrete earth;

     This earth

                That so far

Has been here every day

                In your waking, and

                In your sleep.

And now,

Imagine

That this end, this absolute destruction decimation disheveled black sky water dawn

Imagine that this is you

                Waking up

                And getting a second

                Chance.

                   In fact, imagine everyone around you

Receiving the same gift, a second chance,

At the same time

Waking up at last.

     What will all of you

     Do

     With this gift?

Some, even today, as grim and gristled and splintered as it is,

Some will keep their eyes shut tight

And complain

About the collapsed peaks, the houses washed out to sea,

The plans.

But you

     And even some of those

Close to you

     And some

                You will never know

You and they

Are beyond sleep.

As hard as it is

     To walk when the earth

     Is all buckle and bow beneath you,

The sky blowing above and around;

As heartbreaking

     To see the sleepwalkers

Falling into the caverns

welcoming them into

     the closing earth;

As blinded as you are

     By the tears  

                Washing out the grit of regrets —

You are simply done

     With once upon,

And are Here.

You, and the others, are here

Opening your arms,

Welcoming and holding the found

Children,

Waiting to hear the songs

That will lead you into spring,

As tonight, at my house, in my pasture,

The meadowlarks

Are announcing their arrival

In a multitude of tremors.

Ellen Marie Metrick ~ March 17,2011