Soliloquies Anthology 24.2

Birch Bark Raymond Luczak Its peel rolled around my fingers

easily as I pried loose to see the grey wood itself.

Its edges felt sharp, curly blades against my ceaseless fingers.

I stepped down the slopes

to the swollen cave-in where tiny cyclones of mosquitoes

swarmed above the drowned saplings.

So much rain had fallen

that people rode their canoes around the cave-in.

I flung the peel out there to see what would happen— it didn’t sink at all!

It floated amiably toward a much

older and taller birch half-swamped under.

Then it suddenly careened

into the damp arms of its mother. The winds around me

howled and then whispered, Come home, come home.

A59