March
- March
When feathers frosted cinder blocks and boathouse glass,we leaned on cracking ice and watched our breath becomeAurora, exhaled our ancestors into constellations.
We spoke of wispy things—how earth and ox and air becameour words, how we lost ki and káhsh and wapunak, how evensilence dims the dark in storms, but more, a distant moan,
a boat to open sea, the long eye of a red beam sweeping,telling us it's time to quit the rim, time to turn in, it's timefor roads laid out like spokes to lead us home. [End Page 82]
Rebecca Pelky is Ridgel Fellow in the PhD program at the University of Missouri. She also holds an MFA from Northern Michigan University. She is an enrolled member of the Brothertown Indian Nation of Wisconsin. Her work has appeared in The Chattahoochee Review, Booth, and River Styx, among other journals.
