Lost Boot

We packed the back
of the car
with buckets, metal rakes
and spades.
We bribed the kids
with milkshakes
from the roadside
burger stand.
The clouds
threatened
to make a fuss
but we ignored them,
along with the kids’ sighs,
knowing all would settled
when we reached
the shore –
the low tide
letting us go
so far
toward the sea.
We sat on spare buckets
to save our backs
and cheered
at each colony of clams
we found
below clusters of oyster shells.
We dug our limits
within minutes
And yet
none of us wanted
to let go
of the thrill
under that bright
and complicated sky.
Until the tide
snuck right up
through the sand,
took hold
of you and the boy.
When your feet came out
of the boots,
you stood strong
in soaked socks
to try to save
the boots.
But one of his boots
would not let go.
One of his boots
is still
filled with sea.

~ Megan M. Codera

We See What We Remember 

In the spring
of the mid-eighties,
you took us over the mountains
at three in the morning
to try to see
the comet
that won’t pass again
for another forty-five years
from now.
I slept on blankets
in the way, way back
of the wagon.
We pulled into
a look-out
with other families
and telescopes
we didn’t know.
The dark sky
grabbed all of us,
lit up with more stars
than I ever thought
possible
and a pull of energy,
I could not name.
We were above
the Columbia valley,
on the edge
of a one-shot moment
for most.
The highway
and the open sky
hushed the conversations,
but still the air
was electric.

I could not tell you
how the comet looked,
or even if
we saw it at all.
I must have foolishly
held the idea that I could
see it again
in my lifetime.
But either way,
it was up there.
And we drove over the mountains
at three in the morning
to try to see
the comet
that won’t pass again
for another forty-five years
from now,
long after you have gone.

~ Megan M. Codera

Tell me a story
and I will write it down.
Linger on the details
or don’t.
What you do not say
will come to me anyway.
I will brush my hands over the words
before they have dried
and fill in the cracks.
Do not hesitate
if you can’t remember the name
for that place, that road.
I will name it
whatever it needs to be
to put us there.
If you think you saw
a flock of whooping cranes swirling
and calling above,
so loud you couldn’t hear
the person beside you,
you did.
Give me the scenes
that have stayed with you
all these years
and just keep talking about them
to reveal the ones that didn’t.

-November 2015