Pores of the Land

Pores of the land
Who I am not anymore
Gather like dust
In the corners of my life
The parking lot
Tastes like everywhere
I have ever been
I do not know the outcome
where the dust becomes ash
becomes starlight

I only know that the cat purrs into my arm
That I must remain still
That this is fragile

                        Hanging like dew

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On the temporality of the present

Can I let the spider crawl across my thigh without flicking it away?

Can I let the fig caramelize,
so that it can become what I desire?

Why can I read ancient mythologies;
accept wonton fate, yet I
fear letting the fruit ripen
until it hangs in dense morsels
Why, even then,

                       do I fear the birds will pluck it away; before I can?

I want to let life golden

                       and just stir

at the gentle, yawning crevice
with the tip of my littlest finger…

Like how cherries can dry perfectly
hanging on the tree

Can I let the purity of life—

                       can I let?

letting
across seas
across fantasies
across dreams recollected

Can I let the knot of innumerable threads

Make my mind
Make my heart?
 

Emily Ratto is a poet, educator, and MFA graduate from Saint Mary’s College of California. She is passionate about helping young people explore their identities through creative expression, mentoring students to build confidence, resilience, and self-awareness. Her poetry, rooted in the natural world, reflects an intuitive, lyrical movement, emphasizing writing as both exploration and transformation.

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