LICHEN
as an arrangement, between
algae and fungus. An understanding –
sea foam spreading high up on a bare walnut tree.
Three crows go screaming by,
dive at a red-tail and alert the pine squirrel who darts off now.
Trillium will bloom and the march brown mayfly too.
This is maybe as close to quiet as I can get
before my brother’s bleeding eye
is a shadow spreading at the base of my neck
like a fat brook trout in the creek
and I have to ask myself again
if that is something I want to catch.
Elizabeth Leo was a poet, teacher, and gardener. She received her MFA in poetry from West Virginia University. A Philadelphia native, she lived in West Virginia until her death in 2019. She has poems forthcoming in Radar Poetry, Poet Lore, and Moon City Review.
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