Fieldwork
Another day of heat-
strangers continue to wobble
across the horizon, bringing drought
when instead we should have deluge.
I steep snow-lichen in water I
drew from a lake
which has since gone dry.
At sea few understood me,
as though I induced a sickness
that deafened, then healed.
As before, I predict lies,
to be pushed from the boat
time and time again.
Nevertheless, I expect
to get by while their widowers·
seek refuge with their provident
families; perhaps a storm will pile fish
at their doors when the red tide rises,
perhaps they will not follow as we move,
moon into moon, under another sky.
strangers continue to wobble
across the horizon, bringing drought
when instead we should have deluge.
I steep snow-lichen in water I
drew from a lake
which has since gone dry.
At sea few understood me,
as though I induced a sickness
that deafened, then healed.
As before, I predict lies,
to be pushed from the boat
time and time again.
Nevertheless, I expect
to get by while their widowers·
seek refuge with their provident
families; perhaps a storm will pile fish
at their doors when the red tide rises,
perhaps they will not follow as we move,
moon into moon, under another sky.
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Disclaimer
We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Joan Naviyuk Kane, “Fieldwork” from Dark Traffic (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2021.) Poem reprinted by permission of the author and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.