Wedding Poems

Nuit de juin ! Dix-sept ans ! - On se laisse griser.

La sève est du champagne et vous monte à la tête...

On divague ; on se sent aux lèvres un baiser

Qui palpite là, comme une petite bête..

 -       from Roman, by Arthur Rimbaud

Translation:

 June night! Seventeen years ! - We let ourselves

get drunk.

The sap is champagne and goes to your head...

We wander; we feel a kiss on our lips

Which throbs there, like a little animal..

Knots

For a long while this place didn’t know me.

The rain came and went according

to its own life, the metronome drip from the eaves

stately with history.

Every day I was an exception.

The floorboards discussed my bare feet.

 

But sometimes in the seconds

between sleeping and waking

a swiftness caught me up,

as if I were glimpsed

in the corner of an eye, fleeting,

my importance unfixed.

 

I took my cues from the late afternoon light,

touched what it touched,

ran my fingers along the edges of picture frames,

followed the bright hair on your arm

upward to the curve of shoulder.

Everywhere I touched a small knot tied itself:

clove hitch, cat’s paw, angler’s loop.

 

And in the end these hold.

The rain lingers, floorboards swell.

Your slumbering arm across my hip

fastens us in our own designs.

 

-       Lori Powell

Winter poem

 
Who knew it would be winter?

Hands down we’d thought the fall

knowing nothing of Michaelmas

yet proclaiming it our own, toasting

from both sides of the continent: Maine

to Seattle, a three hour phone call 

laced with whiskey, blackberries,

and the stuff of medieval feasts:

smoked goose, bannock bread, secret verses, all

shared at a remove

of three thousand miles. Still

we keep that phone call, and still

we call it Michaelmas.

 

But look! The snow that came

to bind us hadn’t fallen then, had yet

to gloss our face, glazing

our corneas as we refused to close a single eye, 

had yet to salt your hair, my beard

with promises of the future

as it would

within those fir and cedar

haunts, the ones we’d glide, nervous

at dusk in the high Cascades,

believing something, some stark

and lovely thing, 

there in the Trollhaugen cold

was lurking.

And we waited, giddy with exalted

shivering ‘til it came, bound

in our boots, slip soled,.

spear tipped and nimbly 

gloved, banishing always

the spring, seeing

 

we may not play

always

in the cold

 

In time perhaps,

the midnight sun, 

or even a middling equinox

will beckon, then we’ll garden

and barbecue with abandon

 

but now, just

now, it’s we three, this ménage 

à froid: you, me

and the forever falling mercury.

 

-       Jeff Baker

 

Waiting for Snow

 

At night you clear a space on the railing for new snow to fall.

You have a bent for reckoning, and you’re patient:

you watch, you wait, then you measure. Soon flakes

swarm under the porch light like bees settling:

bees of light in a hive of light. They’ve blown from the swollen

fields of the sky. Now they want to embrace everything.

In the yard the next morning, there are no longer

any hard edges, only curved, gravid shapes.

With one hand you sink your coffee mug into the white

arm of the railing. With the other you insert the ruler: four

and one quarter inches. You pick up your coffee mug

and step back into the kitchen where your lover is pushing

her hair from her face. You realize all this time

you’ve been hoping she would wake, and now she has.

 

-       Lori Powell

Avalanche Dreams

 

Still the glow of blue

Christmas lights buried

in the snow, where a timer

ticks the bulbs, day

and night, off

and on.

 

No one sees or knows

 

We leave them lit. Back

at Thanksgiving we bent

low, threading the stiff 

green wires through squat 

yew hedges

and the lights were barely

knee high, now 

February’s drifted 

past our waist, still

 

 

We don’t pull the plug.

Who knows what miracles 

We’re illuminating down there?

 Might an ermine, no….

a family!

of them: eyes

and tail tips all

fierce black embers,

come tunneling 

over from the woodpile, 

break dimly

into the frozen 

cerulean mist

beneath the yews, only

to pause, blinking,

for a heartbeat?


Because that

would be enough. More

than enough, as even nothing

is enough: just the thought, 

luminous as lava, miles deep in the earth.

 

-       Jeff Baker

Rings and photo of rings: Liz Stefany,

Carrabassett Valley Jewelry