Steering Story

By Sarah Wyman

What people say when you’re not around,

parading their overturned trees

like candles in hand,

sparkle explosions

of desiccated roots thirsting for gossip

set to ignite tinder fronds.

One guy had such nightmares

from the skeletal bloom

that he built a forest altar

to quiet the muttering

and keep spirits at bay.

Walking by an actual elm uprooted,

he sensed the burst of soil

flung from muddy depths

the squall of tendrils

searching their accustomed worms

and deep-dirt parasites.

He stacked a stairway of rotting branches,

a dry beaver’s hut,

to hold the quiet sculpture in place.

And with each passing

added an offering: a hollow nut

a nail, a bit of moss to soothe the voices

to steer the narrative

to calmer ground.

_____________________________________

Sarah Wyman lives in the Hudson Valley where she writes and teaches about literature and the visual arts at SUNY New Paltz. She co-facilitates the Sustainability Learning Community and teaches poetry workshops at Shawangunk Prison. Her poetry has appeared in aaduna, Mudfish, Ekphrasis, San Pedro River Review, Potomac Review, Lightwood, Heron Clan XI, A Slant of Light: Contemporary Women Poets of the Hudson Valley, and other venues. Her books are Sighted Stones (FLP 2018) and Fried Goldfinch (Codhill 2021).