Faithful
daylight whispers the river first,
silvering water
before sky lightens
as darkness grounds itself into roots
of silhouetted trees—
pine deep, oak deep, cedar
deep first notes of dawn song
call eastward to the coming glow,
west to fade of night.
I never saw it coming but my bone rhythms knew—
these things happen at unnatural turning points.
You forgot those dirty clothes in the hamper,
all else snatched from drawers and closets,
“Desperado” on the turntable, waiting.
There was no peace when you left—
yet out, and in again
steady tides ease to slack,
a constant return from open sea.
As always, without a break of heart, the peaceful moon then turns her attention
outward, a constant return to ocean sea.
Steady tides ease to slack,
in, then out once more—
yet there was no peace when you left
“Desperado” on the turntable, waiting,
all else snatched from drawers and closets.
You forgot those dirty clothes in the hamper—
these things happen at unnatural turning points.
I never saw it coming, but my bone rhythms knew.
My bone's rhythms have always known
west to fade of night
east to the coming glow,
first notes of dawn song
pine deep, oak deep, cedar
deep silhouetted trees and
darkness grounding itself into roots
before sky lightens,
silvering water as
daylight whispers the river first,
faithfully.
Ellen Malphrus is author of the novel Untying the Moon (USC Press, foreword by Pat Conroy) and the poetry anthology Mapmaking with Sisyphus (Mercer University Press, in production). Publications include Atlanta Review, The Chariton Review, Weber: Contemporary West, Poetry South, James Dickey Review, Blue Mountain Review, Natural Bridge, Southern Literary Journal, William & Mary Review, Fall Lines, Yemassee, Haight Ashbury Review, Catalyst, Without Halos, and Our Prince of Scribes. She is an award-winning professor and Writer-in-Residence at USC Beaufort who divides her time between the marshes of her native South Carolina Lowcountry and the mountains of western Montana.