New poetry from Erin Rose Coffin, excerpted from Arcturus magazine, April 2018.
Rose Hollow Avenue, Appalachia
Who names the roads in these mountain towns?
Winding Stairs Road, Rhododendron Run,
Moonlight Drive. If I could, I would name one
for your Pacific Northwest Childhood,
one for your Electric Grace. I would name
a lane for your Fingers on the Organ
in our living room, singing Harry Nilsson.
I would name one, Don’t Forget to Find Me.
I was lost, once, by the eastern ocean.
When I found my way home, you drew me a map.
You gave me lilies, a bluebird, a lightning bolt.
We climbed into your car and you twisted
my tangled braids between your fingers. Wind.
I would name an avenue for Each Time I Thought
You Stopped Breathing in Your Sleep, and for me,
Waiting for You to Begin Again. I would name our street
after the old stars under which you were born —
Aquarius. Arcturus. Polaris.