A Finnish Lake
- A Finnish Lake
The prow of the boat cuts forward. The man pullsthe oars against glass — surely it’s glass — can waterhold so hard. His white clean shirtsleeves bleedsunlight reflected.
The lake moves, blue to blue. Runnels, dropletsoar-lifted slap dull chimes against gunwales.
The blue dress and white kerchief are a young womancrossing what she can’t escape. She forcesa calm, makesa quiet pool of herself.
The boat is long and steady.
The older woman holds a black hymnal. Her ponderings:sticks and bubbles, light streaks and leaf bits.
At the heart of the boat, a small coffin. Terriblevessel, little hymnal shut tight,music folded away.
The lake grows wider. Slivers of islands cling to the distance.
On the young woman’s lap, a packet of bread bound in a striped cloth.Surface ripples urge their shadows on her.She has folded her hands against thought. [End Page 393]
Far back from the boat’s wake,farmstead buildings slip behind forest.Birches go sour in evergreen dark.No one looks back.
Pine sprigs crown the coffin. Where lid meets box, an edging of pressed lace.
The oarsman picks up speed to outrunsun-bite, cold, the lake itself. Up from the horizon,clouds fold glare into gray, rising, roughening with wind,reminiscing higher. This is the past. [End Page 394]
susanna brougham’s poetry has been published in Gettysburg Review, Denver Quarterly, Cincinnati Review, Tampa Review, and other journals, and has appeared on Poetry Daily. She has received grant support from the St. Botolph Club Foundation and Finlandia Foundation. Susanna works as an editor for book publishers and museums.
