“the watermen: door county scenes”

by Jacob Riyeff

limestone, basalt 

wade under cypress 

over feldspar to shale 

we'll move earth 

like others, to make  

a space to walk 

* 

sheer, clear light  

fossils roll 

on the shore. curdles  

of water massage  

earth’s edge 

and we will live 

'til the sun sets 

we are trapped  

but the words are free— 

* 

claws on dirt  

children play  

with dead fish  

like pets and puppets 

* 

a barest trace  

of light splayed  

’cross miles of water 

jupiter delayed,  

hanging in the eye  

lightning bugs waft  

thru aspen leaves,  

beech logs burn 

tongue of flame  

asleep, slugs  

coiling green  

girth ’round toadstool  

stalks in darkness,  

mycelial volvae  

bursting moss,  

virginia wetleaf  

explodes stamens  

in the night, and still  

jupiter floods 

the sky slowly,  

slowly delayed 

* 

day cardinal chortles  

over emergent gemmed  

amanitas. play whist 

listen  

to waves 

in the dark— 

* 

fern-field branching  

for sun unimpeded 

sand-ringed swales  

of light, dappled  

caressing the base 

one dead aspen  

fern-flanked as i  

make my ablution 

squat on the wet  

sand, water  

gathered in hands 

* 

a glimpse of black  

boggy bottoms  

where trails don’t go 

and always the desire  

to take—thicket  

thrushes coupling, 

berate as i move  

by the bank, mosquitoes  

elated for a mammal 

stream rushing on  

pulling and shifting 

sand 

stone 

leaflitter— 

moss-burrow, new  

eyeline. we are off  

the trail now 

fern-bank underfoot  

enter creek-current  

cool water 

over rough sand 

*  

the proud, lone  

iris, standing  

trunks for beetles— 

must watch our step 

Jacob Riyeff is a translator, teacher, and poet. His books include his translations and editions of Benedictine works from the early medieval through the modern periods, as well as his own poetry collection, Sunk in Your Shipwreck. Jacob lives in Milwaukee's East Village.

web: jacobriyeff.com

blog: jacobriyeff.com/blog

@riyeff