1 poem
Driftwood
cleaved in winter and low-pressure the rain
washing out at the roots
a circulation to the mouth
traveling rivermiles in half-minutes
and bobbing by
defunct docks stranded above the waterline
by infilled channels and channel bars then settling
into the sheer sloping thickets of dune grass salal
salting salmonberry
this is where we take the rip out and time the slow-whip
of a tall young fir against the jetty wall
the tips of the limbs clawing the spit are sinking or rising or sinking
and we paddle over them on long winter boards with the thick leg ropes knotted in
the hood and boots tight and hard as a shell on the skin:
our fingers splayed out combing the seawater
the cold lashes and froths across the face and the surface
flushes these sore and ringing ear canals
but the jetty holding: a shelter from the wind and a bank for peeling rights
but the brackish channel: the nests in crooks trunks and limbs
scattering through the eddies
Andrew Rahal was born in Columbia, MD. His chapbook No New Wilderness was selected for the Rane Arroyo Prize (Seven Kitchens Press, 2021). New poems have appeared in Bath Magg, Great River Review, Poetry Ireland Review, and elsewhere. In 2019, he was selected for the Poetry Ireland Introductions Series by Martina Evans. He holds a PhD from the Seamus Heaney Centre for Poetry at Queen's University, Belfast and he has also received grants, fellowships and awards for his writing from the Centre for Book Arts in NYC, Poetry Ireland, the European Association of American Studies, and the Arts Council of Northern Ireland.