I’m standing on it.
Corn kernels like a welcome mat
On the tight-slatted
Bridge over the path that
Runs by the river. Popcorn on sale at
The co-op. Someone must have spilled a bag.
Split. It’s hot.
Not summer yet.
That tree is thick
All pierced with blackbirds,
God it’s quiet.
Like that boy I cursed
Who threw salt
Cross his heart,
Burned a Ouija board. Might be bats
In the walls. What
Time is it? Central.
What’s the matter?
Getting hotter.
What if it started
Open my eyes: popcorn,
Popcorn, all of it
Popped. I stood back
Up. The blackbirds
In a seismic shimmer swooped
Away. Most of the popcorn
Floated off. Some bits
Went down to the river. Lots
Dissolved. The seagulls pecked
At the rest of it.
The blackbirds
Motionless, suddenly lit.
from Poetry Northwest 09.2 Winter & Spring 2015More by Adrienne Raphel from the library
Copyright © Adrienne Raphel
Used with the permission of the author
on behalf of Poetry Northwest.