Thorpe Moeckel

At Courthouse Creek

Check out the hemlock, heavy & atwitch

with the steady, fat-lipped rain

on river left, halfway up

Salvation’s spiral staircase,

its needles feathery & beatboxed,

nothing’s eyelashes, nothing’s pulp;

check out the treetrunks, gnarl-fingered

& gothic, between the sweet pepperbush

and the rattlesnake plantain, the brook trout

beneath the convergence of two wave trains

and an eddy’s ass-end, where

the glare’s blueberry-banana,

cross hatched & curlicued; check out

the creek’s coastal range,

its lake region, tundra, & Lava Falls,

its chinese characters, sea stacks,

grocery lists, jobs without benefits;

check it out, how the birch limbs

wedged by highwater in the damp dark

amongst hellbender & hellgrammite

point to Heaven’s ten thousand

four-way stops. Change is light:

watch it, watch the sun’s lurid monologue,

thoughtless, time-splashed,

top dead center; watch it,

leaf-filtered & on the move, blister

the water’s errant flecks.