Fieldwork
Another day of heat-
strangers continue to wobble
across the horizon, bringing drought
when instead we should have deluge.
I steep snow-lichen in water I
drew from a lake
which has since gone dry.
At sea few understood me,
as though I induced a sickness
that deafened, then healed.
As before, I predict lies,
to be pushed from the boat
time and time again.
Nevertheless, I expect
to get by while their widowers·
seek refuge with their provident
families; perhaps a storm will pile fish
at their doors when the red tide rises,
perhaps they will not follow as we move,
moon into moon, under another sky.
Copyright Credit: Joan Naviyuk Kane, “Fieldwork” from Dark Traffic (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2021.) Poem reprinted by permission of the author and the publisher.