Out at the Root

Shore pine on the sea cliff,

perennial axletree on which

stars wheel—waves of the highest

 

high tide have half-unearthed

its hold. The intricate rootwork

that like sight of the covenant’s ark

 

none should know, hangs exposed:

rainwashed, rope-thick roots scaffold

the vacancy where cliff was, and ends

 

of ripped rhizome, thread-thin,

pulse droplets like rosaries broken

continually. The upper canopy un-greens

 

needle by needle; the low notched

branch-ends interlock to gnash

in wind. Even its sudden hush is a harsh

 

suspension between constellation’s cog

and log undressed by waves, ring by ring.

The immanence of no returning

 

deity inheres in its last distress.

It is a high unblessed separateness,

at last. At last, it is relentless.

—Brandon Krieg

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About the Author

Brandon Krieg is the author of Source to Mouth, a chapbook forthcoming from New Michigan Press. His poems have appeared in Web Conjunctions, the Iowa Review, Shenandoah, and many other journals. He is a founding editor of the Winter Anthology: www.winteranthology.com.

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