“Step toward her from all the places you could walk to in your country’s remotest reach” — Caroline Morrell



She Gathers, newspaper, 8″ x 10″

Step toward her from all the places you could walk to in your country’s remotest reach 




This must be the place:
Old forest open


Even the woman he calls Batool goes far to gather fallen wood
her thermos parting the plastic sofreh, one tea wide
one tea narrow


or does she gather somewhere without a forest?


it’s argued
sometimes the bitter orange sticks to the wood


And without
a forest to see water, whose water lets her go holy in a flat boat, she waits


Either night glistens in the gut or night feeds us


There grows the tree’s outer tree. If not worn at night,
then worn by no one.


***

Caroline Morrell is the author of Final Fort, selected by New Hampshire Poet Laureate Alice B. Fogel as the winner of the Bright Hill Press Poetry Book Contest. Her poetry chapbook, Whispery her eye the flight, was published by dancing girl press and her writing has appeared in Black Clock, Conjunctions, Court Green and Versal, as well as numerous other publications. She is a recipient of the Ohio Arts Council Individual Artist Fellowship for Poetry, Devine Fellowship for Creative Writing, and the Cora Owlett Latzer Award from The Academy of American Poets.