Connie Wanek (June 01, 1952 -)
for Louis Jenkins
We still walk down the hillside
where bedrock surfaces
like the back of a huge gray pike
come to glare at you
before it breaks your line.
A raven alights on top of a white pine
then flings himself off,
while a cottontail springs away
through the clearing where teenagers
leave their empty vodka bottles.
Everything that enters through my eyes
arrives at my brain upside down
which is how the lake
has become the sky at last.
Here’s the very trail we used to take
to come and listen and laugh
when you were alive, and here
is the end of it. I look down
into the future, and there’s the past
rising up one last time.
Louis Burke Jenkins (October 28, 1942 – December 21, 2019)