by these remedies

your copper head, your cotton mouth, the wisteria blossoms clutching your neck

spitting fire

He wanted to make amends. February by the river. A fresh start. I, who so staunchly oppose unseasonable acts, somehow agreed. It was Valentine’s; be amiable dammit. Crinkly brush, brown river, grey sky, black arc of noisy crows. We built a fire. We had paper and pens. We wrote our griefs and grievances, rages and righteousnesses, threw them into the fire. For it to digest, purge, free us from our own wrath, etc. He finished before me. I kept writing, crumpling, tossing, burning.

Finally finished. Spit into the dirt. The fire consumed nothing. Scraps of paper, who cares. The fire was in my mouth. I spit into the dirt and the fire bubbled in the mud and crept through the soles of my boots, through my feet and up the veins of my legs and right back to my heart.

Some things, darling, you cannot forgive.

by these remedies

I go into the forest
every day
and it tells me
all I need to know.
I go into the forest
every day
and its capacious
arms of kudzu hide
me from his eyes
I go into the forest
stench of honeysuckle
rotting mulberry, raw
sewage, wisteria
screeching birds
how else to quiet
my own cacophony:
measure for measure
dose for dose
madness for madness
by these remedies
by these remedies
by these I shall be—
I am not worthy
I am not worthy
but only say the word
and I shall be—

.

Appalachian Burn Cure

She could blow out fire. When anyone got a burn they’d go to her little white wood house, knock knock. Over the wound she’d frown and gently blow, murmur:

There was two angels, come from the north / One brought fire, one brought frost.

Go out fire! Come in frost! / Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

see the house hiding within the wisteria

Learn to smell

Learn to smell pheromones stiffening when someone does not like you. Learn to smell them warming and percolating when they do. Learn to smell the presence of wild animals. No, not with your nose. Know where snakes like to hide. Hear the silence of the heron’s wings. Know the look of bear shit and coyote shit and the best watering hole. Feel the mountain lion watching you – you will never see her but will sometimes see her delicate tracks only in the softest sand. The coyotes will not come out during the day but at dusk your property becomes their dominion; respect the clear and simple line of nightfall, close your doors and hear them swirling and yowling and laughing, look out your window to see them streaking through the blue and pine.

Learn to smell subtle disdain, timid flirting, deceit, desire, someone on a lucky streak, a sudden careening downfall, a slow tumor. You already can, you already do, everyone can. Acknowledge what you already know. Stop listening to the words and watch where the knees are pointing, where the eyes flick, when the temples sweat, when they blush or flush. You know exactly who wants to fuck your wife. In the woods when your neck tenses, your arms prickle, you start imagining bears, you already know.

.

I teach my daughter to listen for the sound of twigs breaking on the hillside, tracks in the mud, the contents of scat, typical lairs, but also the calls of birds, the berries to eat, which flowers are medicine. Oh lovely calendula, she murmurs. May I pick your blossom? The flower replies and she knows how to listen.

.

entreaty to the flowers

pull open the petals
and drink the tiny
vial of honeysuckle
cure me of this
fever: my hot head
my too-sharp teeth.
oh chamomile please
could you render me
gentle and sweet?
sting me, nettle
rid me of this
blistering impatience
with everyone / for
my own death.
I dig a hole beside
the burdock, bury
my head two feet
deep, gnaw the
root like a mole:
take me with you
take me under
whatever you’re
reaching for
I need too

.

begging pardon of the dirt

—oh my lady I underestimated you—pardon me—but here I am again on your red dirt (I’m as surprised as you). You take me back to your childhood trailer, mold and rust and kudzu dragging it back into the earth. You show me your copper head, your cotton mouth, I kiss the wisteria blossoms clutching your neck, your poison ivy sleeve, the cockroaches and ticks adorning your fingers. You welcome me home with bears and beers, centipedes devouring the garden, a quick and muddy creek, a toothless man on clawhammer banjo. You welcome me home—

the importance of being merry

it is important to be merry
to preserve the hilarity
of this world
if I am not laughing
the joke withers and dies.
it is important to be sorrowful
to acknowledge the agony
of this world
if I am not crying
the pain becomes indignant
and grows.