WEBVTT

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And I forgot I was supposed
to read one of my own,

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so I'll read a short one.

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I was thinking so--

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thank you so much,
LeAnne Howe, for allowing

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me to be published
in The Georgia Review

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last spring with a special
Southeastern issue.

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And they accepted
this poem, which

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is really about in
seeing and looking

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at the maps of the Southeast
and not seeing our Muskogee

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homelands there, but through a
different kind of visibility,

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a different kind of insight.

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So this is from
The Georgia Review.

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And it's from a long collection.

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It's just a section.

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I find you nowhere
that is here or there.

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Below the sunken
Uchee path, iron ore.

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The ridge-dividing
water veined with it.

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Pea vine wiregrass,
short leaf hickory,

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old fields' flood
plains, indigo dyed.

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When the woods were still
dense, saw palmetto,

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grapes of the hills destroyed
by fire, and the haw chestnut

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by the hatchet.

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If it were easy to leave our
bodies in the fork of Red

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River, two mounds of Earth.

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If it were easy to leave
you behind in a stream

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clear with flowering stones,
to find you in the language

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where I lost you as if you
were a sentence in this poem,

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and this poem an
archive of the forest.

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But I've burned
the remaining pine.

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On the bluffs, strawberries
thinly scattered.

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And in the old beaver
ponds, briar root,

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a bread made of it
for times of famine.

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Thank you all so much.