July 8, 2020

Multnomah at Night by Carolyn Adams

From downstream, 
a cold push, a rush. 
Continents of water 

Grandmother bones  
of basalt hold it back 
only by inches, 
funneling thunder 
until it falls. 

the night clock moves on. 
Animals manage sleep  
nearby, others stir  
in hunting hours. 
In the wild spray, 
ferns hold  
poised swords, 
lichens cling to 
protective stones. 

The cathedral grotto, 
in spite of other silences, 
shatters with  
dark crescendos. 

Carolyn Adams' poetry and art have appeared in Panoply, Amsterdam Quarterly, Visitant, Bryant Literary Review, and Trajectory, among others. Nominated for a Pushcart and for Best of the Net, she is currently a member of the Executive Board of the Oregon Poetry Association, a staff editor for Mojave River Review, and a poetry editor for VoiceCatcher. 

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