three poems by lauren mallett
The Sea Hands Over Its Ropes
in the unrelenting
eruptions of every opalescent
wave
see their conniptions
like mirrors
their trembling inside
that velvet nudge
this backwash of sigh
are they coming in
are they going out
*
the sea tumbled the ropes into tangles
rigid lattice
tight twirl
the voice loved these words
beyond the rope was the sea
where the voice was born
the voice collected the ropes
the ropes made faces
the ropes were hair
*
the knot is the rope at its most vulnerable
nautical line bunched
into yarn
and yarn into cord
understand
the rope was made to float
The Grief Knot
the voice did
want the rope to add up to something more
than rope
a hand is pulling a rope tied to a boat
if the hand is x meters above the sea
how long is the grief
if it makes an angle of y with the water
how could the voice
ask that of plastic
that slips apart with astonishing ease
the insecure unravel
lock and unlock
hardly practical
The Sea Hands Over Its Ropes
the answer was always more
the question was never why
see how you smile
see how you scream
in all weathers
of capsized plastic
driftwood ellipses
king tides
interruptus
the sneaker waves outcarving
the dune steppe
*
of course the rope is vein
predictably turquoise
strawdust
knot factus
will the glue keep
will the tape tire
two or more pulls per verse
snarl
unsnarl
the tide pool stipple
the swelling
the slackening
the obsequious grin of the moon
*
of course the sea is uterus
teardrop forevers
the manufactured flash of glitter
tensile pull squishy lure
the entire sun abstracted into cloud
the front a mask
the back a mess
the sea knot is tied
the sea knot is tide
understand this sea
married to neither and none
*
the dunegrass bristled hallucinogenic
ditto the gull
the crow the elegant clam shows
understand
to the voice the rope was a curtain
the rope was in a pile
lying there
and then the voice
unwrapping
trying on itself
said without saying
uncertain:
*
before long the sea will be over us
the plastic ropes
made by our machines
pumiced by ocean duff
caught in the murk
sunk into the netting
curled upwards around us
we will be welcomed home
to this the colossal we live for
Lauren Mallett’s poems appear in Poetry Northwest, TriQuarterly, Puerto del Sol, The Seventh Wave and other journals. She lives on Clatsop land of Oregon’s north coast. www.laurenmallett.com