Erin Wilson

Vessel

 
I carry a bowl filled with water,

with one slice of melon floating in it,

or three blades of grass,

or a palmful of wild strawberries,

or a single bay leaf,

or two cloves. 

& I hold it up to the sky

            & I hold it out to a cold erratic boulder

& I hold it out to the wet fire of muskeg and cattails and mosquitos

          & I hold it out over the salted water

& I hold it, slightly upward, tipped toward all treelines

& I carry it through days

& trying not to spill a drop, I carry it through nights.

When I arrive at the coursing of water, I bend & empty it into the flow.

Erin Wilson's poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in december magazine, Tar River Poetry, Verse Daily, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. Her first collection is At Home with Disquiet; her second, Blue, is about depression, grief and the transformative power of art. She lives in a small town on Robinson-Huron Treaty territory in Northern Ontario, Canada.