Ada Limon
a poem
**
High Water
We become our own land sometimes,
........no important nation, the hand on our door, the ship mast come
up over the flat ocean of dish water.
Say there is nothing to it; my rock is your rock, my empty name
is your empty name, but mine reminds me more of me.
If we begin to count our blessings we could cull up the very stones
and bones in the pavement, but we never count the dust.
........We distrust what we become.
One woman stands in the middle of the street and looks both ways
for a long time, until she continues to walk that yellow line straight
........into the river.
Bless our own kingdoms, our thrones of maps and mirrors.
Perhaps the woman believes she can walk on water or that the road
was just the river deadened by factories and footprints.
In 1890 her Grandmother lived at the very edge of town, and all
........around her the marsh hawks sat low in the reeds.
She sang, Loo-rye, loo-rye, loo-rye, loo because she
thought it was the sound that the river made.
........And no life is as long as a river.
At dinner we have a discussion about acceptable behavior
and how nothing feels quite right this winter.
She walked straight into the river! Must have thought she was Moses!
And on the ride home I grab your hand on the stick shift
and want to say, Insanity feels closer to home than here sometimes, but instead
I point to a white sign on a building that says,
“If you lived here, you’d be home by now” and say, Isn’t that true.
And they haven’t found the woman’s body,
12th day of rain, creeks flooding high up over highways,
white water makes the road a living river.
And when we’re home I stand in the street a bit.
Then we sing, Loo-rye, loo-rye, loo-rye, loo because
we thought it was the sound that the river made.
........And no life is a long as a river.
**
return to sawbuck 1.1
**
Ada Limón is originally from Sonoma, California. Her debut collection,
lucky wreck, was the winner of Autumn House Poetry Prize. Her second book,
this big fake world, was the winner of the Pearl Poetry Prize and is due out
in late 2006. She is very fond of rivers and fish. She hopes you’re having
a good day.
**
High Water
We become our own land sometimes,
........no important nation, the hand on our door, the ship mast come
up over the flat ocean of dish water.
Say there is nothing to it; my rock is your rock, my empty name
is your empty name, but mine reminds me more of me.
If we begin to count our blessings we could cull up the very stones
and bones in the pavement, but we never count the dust.
........We distrust what we become.
One woman stands in the middle of the street and looks both ways
for a long time, until she continues to walk that yellow line straight
........into the river.
Bless our own kingdoms, our thrones of maps and mirrors.
Perhaps the woman believes she can walk on water or that the road
was just the river deadened by factories and footprints.
In 1890 her Grandmother lived at the very edge of town, and all
........around her the marsh hawks sat low in the reeds.
She sang, Loo-rye, loo-rye, loo-rye, loo because she
thought it was the sound that the river made.
........And no life is as long as a river.
At dinner we have a discussion about acceptable behavior
and how nothing feels quite right this winter.
She walked straight into the river! Must have thought she was Moses!
And on the ride home I grab your hand on the stick shift
and want to say, Insanity feels closer to home than here sometimes, but instead
I point to a white sign on a building that says,
“If you lived here, you’d be home by now” and say, Isn’t that true.
And they haven’t found the woman’s body,
12th day of rain, creeks flooding high up over highways,
white water makes the road a living river.
And when we’re home I stand in the street a bit.
Then we sing, Loo-rye, loo-rye, loo-rye, loo because
we thought it was the sound that the river made.
........And no life is a long as a river.
**
return to sawbuck 1.1
**
Ada Limón is originally from Sonoma, California. Her debut collection,
lucky wreck, was the winner of Autumn House Poetry Prize. Her second book,
this big fake world, was the winner of the Pearl Poetry Prize and is due out
in late 2006. She is very fond of rivers and fish. She hopes you’re having
a good day.
