Forge
- Forge
Forge a temporary structure for feed—for nestingfor things you'll lose along the way—the highway from here to Missoulafrom here to Lubbock—from sea to—pack a roll-out, a canister for tearsrecord your dreams and take noteof sounds and scents around youforgive your mother her trespassesyour loves the pain they've inflictedfriends their betrayals and disappointmentsbefriend small animals and childrenform groups—call frequently—ratherthan texting—make an appointmentwith loss—with griefs you didn't knowyou had—with lumps you're too afraidto discover. Attempt to start a fire—use sticks for this. Sit on a pelt atopthe cold firm ground. Rememberthe animals in your dreams—you may need them later.Place your loved ones'pictures in a lockettraverse forestslearn to see in the woodsat night without a flashlight.Learn to cook over an open flame—almost anything—nettles, berries, bitsof dandelion leaves. There will not alwaysbe meat. There will not always be adequate shelter.There will not always be water.There will not always be string. [End Page 8]
Ethel Rackin is the author of three books of poetry: The Forever Notes (Parlor Press, 2013); Go On (Parlor Press, 2016), a National Jewish Book Award finalist; and Evening (Furniture Press, 2017). Her collaborative lyric sequence, "Soledad," written with Elizabeth Savage, was awarded the Thomas Merton Prize for Poetry of the Sacred by Elizabeth Robinson, and another collaborative sequence, "Silent e," is included in They Said: A Multi-Genre Anthology of Collaborative Writing (Black Lawrence Press, 2018). A MacDowell fellow, she has taught at Penn State Brandywine, Haverford College, and Bucks County Community College in Pennsylvania, where she is a professor of English.
