Two Poems by Madeline Trosclair
Thoughts from Hurricane Season
Somehow, the sun still lingers high in the evening light skimming
the tops of loblolly pines leaning to the right hand of the father.
Outside the open window, a chiffon curtain standing still like a ghost, the
mosquito truck hums by on the street and my heart reverberates as that chemical
mist dances into bushes and front porch screens settling nicely into the contours
of rocking chairs. Summer greenery engulfs all that is living and wet bark
fills in the negative space between ground and treetops. A stagnant lake
sweats under algae blooms and mosquitoes brush the water’s surface.
Deep beyond the horizon line, where the stomach drops over water
so frighteningly emptied, violet clouds gather and rub hands.
Not far down the road, blue tarps line the roofs of houses,
and there is so little distance from this year to last.
Driving Away from Home Once Again
Except I’m sitting on I-10 westbound in deadlocked traffic
with heat blending the roadway into the sky and exhaust
fuming in the back of my mind.
I see the car ahead of me strapped down an ice chest
filled with the contents of their fridge and freezer,
and I hope I don’t come home to rotting food, or rather,
I hope it is only rotting food that comprises my loss.
Maybe I should have known better. Maybe I should
have stayed, because no one can tell just how long
we will be gone. A feeling wells in my chest of
having done this recently. From the top of the
Horace-Wilkinson Bridge I look downriver
and pray that what is to come swiftly moves
through us not lingering behind for drinks after
dinner. Hit easy, hit easy, hit easy.
Madeline Trosclair is a poet from Southeast Louisiana pursuing a Master’s of English in Creative Writing at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. With an emphasis on ecological poetry, her work has been featured in Susurrus Magazine, The Tide Rises Journal, Tilted House and is forthcoming in EcoTheo. She is fond of muddy rivers, garlic and warm light. Follow her on Twitter Twitter @mmtrosc.