Carolyn Forché

(28 April, 1950 - / Detroit, Michigan)

Skin Canoes - Poem by Carolyn Forché

Swallows carve lake wind,
trailers lined up, fish tins.
The fires of a thousand small camps
spilled on a hillside.

I pull leeks, morels from the soil,
fry chubs from the lake in moonlight.
I hear someone, hear the splash, groan
of a waterpump, wipe my mouth.
Fish grease spits at darkness.

Once I nudged a canoe through that water,
letting its paddle lift, drip.
I was sucked down smaller than the sound
of the dropping, looked out
from where I had vanished.

Comments about Skin Canoes by Carolyn Forché

  • Subhas Chandra Chakra (8/30/2016 10:33:00 AM)

    I hear someone, hear the splash, groan
    of a water pump, wipe my mouth.
    Fish grease spits at darkness.
    Beautiful lines from a lovely poem. Thanks poet for sharing the poem.10 for it.
    (Report) Reply

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  • (8/30/2016 6:39:00 AM)

    A beautifully conceived equally beautiful poem. Thanks for sharing.10 points. (Report) Reply

  • Barry Middleton (8/30/2016 6:34:00 AM)

    Very nice poem that captures the images, the feeling and experience of being at such a camp. (Report) Reply

  • Edward Kofi Louis (8/30/2016 6:05:00 AM)

    Spilled on a hillside! Thanks for sharing this poem with us. (Report) Reply

  • Robert Murray Smith (8/30/2016 12:23:00 AM)

    A very fine poem from a poet.. Thank you.

    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, May 20, 2016

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