Day 46 of 365 – Mary Pinard




The estuary is slide and suspension, a prism
—-of rhythms. It has a tidal chorus, high crested
in a freshet, hushed at the ebb, like in a Greek play.

Impossible to limn, almost, says an artist I know—
it’s made of remnant floods and inflow, flux, plus
mudflat habitat and beds of silt, whose sheets go

twisted, shorn, remade. Epibenthic green algae
like it there, or depending, starry flounders, anchovies,
even the longfin smelt. A form of expansion, like

an epic for a poet—the Hudson’s is 300 quixotic miles—
or a fleet, deep eddy Dickinson might have turned.
Sweetgrass, sedge weave a marsh around it, as kestrel,

curlew, vagrant shrew carry its evanescent route to light:
no two ever alike, ephemeral as phosphorescence at night.


From Portal
by Mary Pinard

Published by Salmon in 2014
Copyright © Mary Pinard, 2014



MARY PINARD teaches poetry and literature at Babson College in Wellesley, MA. Her poems have appeared in Prairie Schooner, Iowa Review, Georgia Review, Boston Review, and Salamander, among others. She has published essays on poets Lorine Niedecker and Alice Oswald. She was born and raised in Seattle.

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