By Joanna Brown
In the sawdust aria of noontime
you will find me, nested in a bur oak’s
hollow trunk, listening to tossing trees.
Away from crystal shard facts, from alarm
beeps and metronome switches, from maple
tapping of the mind, velvet fiddleheads
will unravel before me, a grey birch will
pencil secrets on scored, rolling bark.
For a while such stories will suffice
as I drink a potion of wood sorrel
and far-gone raspberries the squirrels
bring, and I will forget the time. But you,
you will arrive. My aching will flash,
a thorny curtain remembered. I’ll breathe
your midnight silver hair. I’ll carry you home.
Joanna Brown’s poetry has appeared in the chapbook 2 Horatio and Topography
Magazine. She has published essays in venues such as The Jewish Voice and Herald
and Rhode Island Public Radio. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island, with her
family, and when she’s not writing, she works as a physician.