How to Explain
Written after rafting in the Grand Canyon
The rock is not dark
like a Black Ruby plum,
not brilliant as cinnabar or Egyptian red.
The water does not throw herself
in tangles of white lace
from the indigo ledge to a Nile-green river.
The cavern can’t stretch her mouth quite wide enough
for a hundred horses to gallop through
with shudders of breath
and the pouring sweat of flank abrading flank.
You must scrape away every layer of skin
and cast your being onto a-cappella foam
in fearless rapids
until thunder shouts from your eyes.
Mylo Schaaf, author of Blown into Now – Poems for a Journey, worked in journalism, book publishing, and as a physician, before she took a left turn into poetry. After the sudden death of Alex, her 24-year-old son, poems demanded to be written and grew into a book, a guide for others who mourn. Poems continue to emerge, as the tangles of day slip into light.
Written after rafting in the Grand Canyon
The rock is not dark
like a Black Ruby plum,
not brilliant as cinnabar or Egyptian red.
The water does not throw herself
in tangles of white lace
from the indigo ledge to a Nile-green river.
The cavern can’t stretch her mouth quite wide enough
for a hundred horses to gallop through
with shudders of breath
and the pouring sweat of flank abrading flank.
You must scrape away every layer of skin
and cast your being onto a-cappella foam
in fearless rapids
until thunder shouts from your eyes.
Mylo Schaaf, author of Blown into Now – Poems for a Journey, worked in journalism, book publishing, and as a physician, before she took a left turn into poetry. After the sudden death of Alex, her 24-year-old son, poems demanded to be written and grew into a book, a guide for others who mourn. Poems continue to emerge, as the tangles of day slip into light.
