yarrow+ ferns +vetch
+++clamber over stone foundations
++++++++of the vanished cabins
++++++++of the extraordinarily stubborn
who tried to farm steep slopes
+++who built beside quick brooks
but one day had enough
+++said goodbye to cobblestone fields
+++++++++++to the gnat cloud
+++++++++++& clenched water lily
+++++++++++the still pond back in the trees
++++goodbye+ ragweed+ goldenrod+ aster
++++++floral calendar expiring in a jar
++++++pollen dusting the table
the door slams
a sapling grows through the roof
the walls fall in
the hillside sighs
Image: “Mt. Greylock” by buoutingclub, licensed under CC 2.0.
Martha McCollough:
I was climbing around some trails on Mount Greylock, looking for a waterfall I’d visited before, when I came across an overgrown stone foundation, maybe a former mill, on the steeply pitched, rocky edge of a fast-moving stream. It seemed such an inhospitable, almost hostile place to build anything, and it didn’t seem surprising that whatever it was had been abandoned. But in this poem I wanted to find a way to collapse the process of decay, like a time-lapse photograph, and to express a sense of the transience of human impact on this landscape at least.
Martha McCollough lives in Amherst, Massachusetts. She has an MFA in painting from Pratt Institute. Her poems have appeared in Bear Review, Radar, Zone 3, Tampa Review, and Salamander, among others. Her chapbook, Grandmother Mountain, was published by Blue Lyra Press in October 2019, and her full length collection of poems, Wolf Hat Iron Shoes, will be out in Spring 2022 from Lily Poetry Review Books.
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