Poems by Caroline Goodwin
Archives: by Issue | by Author Name
Chenopodium album Hog’s Delight
by Caroline Goodwin
From Canary Summer 2021
Caroline lives and writes in Montara, California, in the San Francisco South Coastal Watershed, with her heart and imagination firmly planted in the Baranof-Chichagof Islands Watershed of Southeast Alaska.
improves the digestion and general well-being
of hens, geese, sheep, swine, morning glory,
barn cat, boy in the ravine, switchblade, trachea,
Scout badge and here my brother with one hand
in the river the other at a rope or wire, him, his,
himself obedient, the body a kind of translation
or book, and it was late in the day the tiny
birds I’d found along the trail having been fed,
their eyes not yet open, longtime companions
gaping at the least sound at the leafy green that
improves the digestion and general well-being
of the mirror, the mantelpiece, the memory of
winter, candelabra, hibernation, the shaving kit
the horsehair brush and hark! an owl a wren
a flock of starlings that scatters and gathers,
American redbreast: once more, with feeling:
improves the digestion and general well-being
© Caroline Goodwin
Impatiens parviflora Slipperweed
by Caroline Goodwin
From Canary Summer 2021
I loved touching the plant’s ripe seedpods
and watching the capsules catapult, the shining
black hulls like eyelids, the early morning with
its glowing colors, its loneliness, and tracing
that scar in my palm, the letter “V” an unmistakable
migratory bird, and the ways in which the creek
insinuated music into the park, the playground,
by all means and carry on and this is a canticle:
tree and field, leaf and green, those long faces
in the cottonwood grove, my father arriving
at the front door screen, my mother’s assertion:
I loved touching the plant’s ripe seedpods
and watching, a beetle and a fine white gull,
the underside of a frond, harp-shaped, a stained
glass lily, the blessing of the fleet, and that which
called me to the edge of the pond? it was the law:
I loved touching the plant’s ripe seedpods
© Caroline Goodwin
Mimulus Lewisii Wild Snapdragon
by Caroline Goodwin
From Canary Summer 2021
favorite monkey flower use is as a trail nibble
or, together with violet, columbine and geranium,
a striking addition to summer gelatin molds, or
as a June sun, distinctive, maybe toothed, finding
the reaches of the valley now, mouse-ear chickweed,
window box on the South side, paint flake, alpine
lake, that glacier-colored vein in the wrist, heart-
field and raindrop, a story you unfold in another
tongue, and here the metal polish and rust, a space
between planks, newsprint, salmon skin, how a
favorite monkey flower use is as a trail nibble
or a balm, a memory, a kitchen sink, tablecloth,
lament, I meant to say love or forgiveness, meant
a true homesong twisting up the birch trunk, but
summer had come, the boy had already found that
bend in the river, my words turned to pebbles, my
favorite monkey flower use is as a trail nibble
© Caroline Goodwin
Aurora
by Caroline Goodwin
pinpoints and dust motes
emerald pincushion
on the windowsill, fabric
over the sky-light, pale
moss blowing in a high tree,
in a shadow in a hand, of
your child lifting the stone
for the tide pool and hermit crab,
giant green anemone, shore-light
and mantlepiece, photo
box made of birch-bark, photo
of the garment and the seam,
of the fireside and
the frenzied moth, silver
wing, silver needle through a blue
bead, after the last fish is cleaned --
© Caroline Goodwin
Mission Blue
(for San Bruno Mountain)
by Caroline Goodwin
From Canary Spring 2016
I go up before sunrise, before the light
finds the promenade and salt flats
and marina, the baylands and lagoon
alive with willows and goldeneye
and before the door opens in the east
and the night shift clocks out
and the parents and older brothers and sisters
come home to the younger ones
to wake them and prepare the first
meal of the day, my own heart
opening into the familiar, into the old
grief blue as a glacier
I go up. And when the light reaches
the water at the center
of every lupine, when the blue wings come
like a blessing to cover my eyes,
there is my grandfather
leaving the garden, offering
bright lettuce and the formula
for a good crop -- one starfish under every
potato and a layer of herring eggs in March --
hand over his heart, hand
placing the last rose, the sun opening
over the bay, into the stonecrop,
into the blue wings we all hold onto there.
© Caroline Goodwin
The River Eyot
by Caroline Goodwin
child at the circle
drawn in mud, willow
branch and shining fur --
humming under the surface
earwig and pillbug
cranefly and pearl --
heron at the tideline
stock-still, clam shell, thin
white lines, milk-thistle, quill --
hold out your hands
open your throat
here’s where the world slides in
© Caroline Goodwin
When The Rain
by Caroline Goodwin
when we watch over the beach
over the snowy plover
seeking shelter in the couch grass
when we hold our hands open
to the west and forget ourselves
in the narrow corridor in
filaments of sunlight that remain
when we detect the first
dry leaves along the pavement
scratching at our arms
and remember the blood
in ferguson in jasper in iguala
in our streets
when we pause when the trees
light up our living rooms with silver
tinsel and ornaments when we drink
the clear water the clean water
when the sky returns to its feathered
clouds and stillness and we come out
let us come out with our eyes open
and with our hearts prepared for both
the battle and the feast
© Caroline Goodwin