a poem by Kat Good-Schiff
In This One
You stand on the brink
of another adventure.
Mom is about to leave you
but it’s not camp this time—you’re 21,
on your own in Acadia National Park
ready to hike & sunburn
drink beer & chase ravens.
You’ve climbed beyond a railing
to the edge of a rock ledge, while she calls
Do you have to go out so far? then
Turn around so I can take your picture.
You always go to the limits of her sight.
She always tries to hold you with a photograph.
You wear a purple sleeveless shirt
jeans cut off at the knee
you stand in sandals on uneven rocks
special sticky rubber strapped to your feet
with green webbing.
Your left hand leans against the orange cliff—
arm outstretched, elbow slightly bent.
Your right hand rests on your hip.
Below you, the ocean pounds.
“In This One” was originally published in Quay: A Journal of the Arts
Kat Good-Schiff is a librarian and writer. She has an MFA in poetry from Goddard College, and her work has appeared in Autumn Sky Poetry, California Quarterly, Meat for Tea, PANK, and elsewhere. She lives with her wife and their animals in western Massachusetts.
Kat Good-Schiff’s blog: Dragon’s Meow: Poetry & Paying Attention
My trip to the MoMA with Kat: Kat and Picasso
Some poems by others:
“Still Life Within the Painter’s Heart” by Margaret Campbell
“The Dust Bowl of My Elbow” by Margaret Campbell
“Virgi’s Muse” by Margaret Campbell
“Edge” and other poems by JD Wissler