Poetry
FALL 2022Lake Edge, January
by HEATHER SWAN
In the same way ice
carries light
by which I mean changed, intensified
by which I mean kaleidoscopic or transformed
by which I mean a suddenly-
visible spectrum from violet
to cerulean to rose
this body
by which I mean this
thorax this spine this skin
carries awareness.
This being,
these beings
by which I mean all,
by which I mean carp antelope lichen
and birds the lightest of all
who live on wind
are allowed to
bear witness
to gravity to iron to calcium and blood
and to the shimmer of rime ice
to the glint of gold on a honeybee wing
to the flint
of a lover’s eyes,
this gleam of late afternoon sun.
And to witness
also fists and teeth
breakage and war
so briefly,
so very briefly
by which I mean death
by which I mean you may shine
before the end.
Heather Swan
Heather Swan’s poems have appeared in such journals as Terrain.org, Minding Nature, Poet Lore, Phoebe, and Cold Mountain. She is the author of the poetry collection A Kinship with Ash (Terrapin Books), a finalist for the ASLE Book Award, and the chapbook The Edge of Damage (Parallel Press), winner of the Wisconsin Chapbook Award. Her nonfiction has appeared in Aeon, Catapult, Emergence, and ISLE. Her book Where Honeybees Thrive: Stories from the Field (Penn State Press) won the Sigurd F. Olson Nature Writing Award. She teaches environmental literature and writing at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.