The Varieties of Moss on Deer Isle
Rent from DeepDyve- The Varieties of Moss on Deer Isle
Twenty-seven years is a blipfor the granite and mica bouldershere, and all the varietiesof moss that live and die each yearmust hold some collective memoryI don’t understand in roots and dirt.
I’ve left the pounding light that blewour family to pieces—a forcesped into clay, seeking the quickestpath to rest, which was decades.But I can’t name this acrocarp—it’s not slender starburst or fireworks.
A father—three kids and revolving doorsweekdays—could drown inside a bottleand find a different self to save.The massive rocks, the churning bayflicking off light, and all these mossesmake an idea of forgiveness so thin.
That which made me is in me. Tinyfragile towers of what might beboulder broom next to what could beshy bristle. On the phone my answersdon’t fit your one book’s descriptionsbut you listen, Dad. One leaf dropped [End Page 136]
can grow a carpet of black earthhooked to a slab of pink granite.I’ll come to see you. This placeis ancient, enfolds how sorry we hopeto be. My field guide’s out of date.We don’t have to name each other. [End Page 137]
Gibson Fay-LeBlanc’s first collection of poems, Death of a Ventriloquist (UNT Press), won the Vassar Miller Prize, received a starred review from Publishers Weekly, and was featured by Poets & Writers as one of a dozen debut collections to watch. His poems have appeared most recently in jubilat, Slice, FIELD, and the Literary Review. He currently serves as the Poet Laureate of Portland, Maine, and directs SPACE Gallery, a center for arts, artists, and ideas.
