subscribe: Posts | Comments

At Homestead National Monument, September
by Matt Mason

Sumac, like seaweed on prairie waves,
red and rolling on the goldenrod swells:

can you imagine
cutting your home
out of this?

From sod from log from soil,
raise shovel raise saw raise hammer,
crack an island
out of ocean.

Wind, through oak leaf and ivy, bluestem
and ironweed, porcupine grass, compassplant, indiangrass,

no,
give it
syllables
you can roll your mouth around:

say “Salvia azurea,”
say “Panicum virgatum,” the wind
is the tide is the surf, needs
something to break
on; build it
here, build it here,
make it
to last

or the waves, gold
and green and crimson,
will leave
no trace
of you,
of yours.