Suzanne S. Rancourt
p o e t r y
To Whom?
a trickle of north wind flutters across my face and i hear geese honking
a backdrop to blue jays’ warning calls
to become invisible or become a tree or
become the fire of fury, a tornado –
this concept of walking among the people unnoticed
knowing what we carry inside ourselves knowing
the truth of the action
how do we tell that story?
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Sumi-e – self portrait
my crow’s feet have become parentheses paraphrasing
the bone structure of my skull, cheekbones and lower jaw
my face is an ink work of katakana brush strokes
from the deliberate and pointed brushes of wolf and weasel
don’t insult me with false flattery when each line etched on my flesh canvas
is the only narrative worth telling – the arroyos
from my eyes have cradled rivers of sorrow
and profound joy and laughter – is there a brush stroke for that?
the left corner of my mouth always is the one that pushes
like sound waves or ripples or bear marks on trees
pushes up to greet the arcing cascades from blue eyes
when not green
and there between the eyes – the point of insight
perhaps i scowl too much, furrowed
that’s what they call it, furrowed, for the water to flow
from the heavens like when i stand in the rain
nourished and the story of gratitude and the hair white and free to blow
like dandelion seeds or white belly feathers of breath
like meaning that has escaped inked kanji
like meaning that a line can no longer hold
Descent
shag hair cattle
russet, black, brown with full horns
stand with thick tongues of slow words
among droplets of alpine blossoms
yellow, purple, white
we dine
in the dining car
sharp summer sun splits thick clouds
glares off peaks shoots
down into my second-class seat
breakfast
i ate silence
read the menu
by way of rail, pen, jam
and two espressos spiked with anticipation
forests, fir and deciduous, deliberate
replaced by steel and aluminum rooftops peaked
with cranes, trusses, smoke stacks
where are you now, omniscient traveler
counting grapevines, vineyards, tunnels?
a sliver of mountain
we slice into the valley
a javelin of intent
arterial balloon of arrival
a blood blossom of population
Of Abenaki / Huron descent, Ms. Rancourt’s book, Billboard in the Clouds, was the winner of the Native Writers’ Circle of the Americas First Book Award. Her forthcoming book, murmurs at the gate, is scheduled for release May 27, 2019. Ms. Rancourt is a USMC and USA veteran.