
by Tamara Madison
The boat of my self
floats on a lake
Fir trees in the distance
sky on the water
Fish-like ripples
stroke my hull
So long without touch,
I’ve gone feral
The dark water’s murmur
is music that soothes me
The tender lake
holds me in its bowl
Tamara Madison is a retired educator whose work has appeared in numerous journals, including the Worcester Review, the Writer’s Almanac, Sheila-Na-Gig, and many others. Her chapbook, The Belly Remembers, and her full-length collections, Wild Domestic and Moraine, were published by Pearl Editions. She is a swimmer and a dog lover, and very glad to have retired before the pandemic set in. Carolyn Monastra is a Brooklyn-based artist, activist and educator. Her recent projects, The Witness Tree and Divergence of Birds, focus on climate impacts on people, landscapes, and wildlife.
Absolutely love this poem. I’m sure to think of it the first time I swim my local pond.
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Beautiful.
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Haunting.
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