A young woman learns about migration Kara Dorris
for Sheila Black
We used to break chapels at least into church steeples to see where swallows go to learn how to vanish winter nights We didn’t understand migration until we lit up those empty watchtowers like fireplaces, until we felt extreme fear/disappointment/love to the point of nothing Winter nights, we learned, turned snow & sleet to black ice, so still we couldn’t help but slide into damage Those nights of rum & coke the first sour-sweet lick of a frozen margarita, blood/snow like inside/out The melting turns everything into what it doesn’t want to be: salvage reclamation We learned sliding into dark winter nights feels like standing still Still, we haven’t learned enough from swallows, why we return to scenes of destruction or try to plough seashores why migrating to & away makes the summer sun-tea that much sweeter Spring 2011 45