Where is the map when we get lost inside ourselves? — Kelley Lannigan
I chose poet, Kelley Lannigan, as this week's Poet of the People because of the wonderful narrative flow of her poetry.
Kelley Lannigan grew up in rural Richland County and studied art and journalism at Columbia College. She spent her life curating art (most recently the Georgia O'Keefe Anniversary Exhibition at Columbia College) and as an editor and journalist for magazines and newspapers. She is retired and lives in Winnsboro with her cats writing poetry, painting, and taking on an occasional writing project.
Aubade
The sun raises the red coin of its face.
Morning, in her gown of light
dances among the trees.
A Cooper’s Hawk, the one we hear
but rarely see, screams reveille.
Awake! Awake! Awake!
It rained so hard last night.
Nipper Creek, dry for months,
runs like a marathon.
Trucks haul gravel from the quarry. Gears shift,
grind, strain up the road’s steep slope.
Sometimes a SLAM! A BANG!
Soon, blasting will shake the ground.
Trucks pass, their angry music fades.
Silence deepens like a dream.
Tops of pines, slow green brooms, sweep the sky.
Old cat snoozes on the rough steps.
She chases something in her sleep.
She woke me earlier, pawed my chest in the dark,
reminded me that for now,
I am not alone.
Terra Incognita
(In memory of Steve, lost to dementia)
He was the kind of man we were glad to see.
The kind who leaned over the fence to talk about his goats,
his chickens. A farmer, adding his link to the long chain
of Huguenots who husbanded the land. Their sturdy houses
still stand sentinel over the Santee, the Pee Dee, the French Broad.
A family man. Husband, lover, father, teacher.
A worldly man. Soldier, navigator, pilot.
A hunter who knew what passed by its scat,
a mark on a tree, tracks in the snow.
The kind of man we called at 3 a.m.
about strange noise by the barns.
His bobbing lantern across the dark fields
made us feel safe.
Snow melts. Tracks erode. Terrain shifts.
Where is the map when we get lost inside ourselves?
He was a man who disappeared before our eyes.
Forgot our faces, his children’s names.
Left the water running. Could not remember
his phone number. How to use the phone.
What a phone was for. Forgot to eat.
Lay in bed until told to get up.
Replied “yes” to every question.
Missed the turn to his farm, piloted his old Chevy
into the next county. Then across the next.
Or simply sat for hours behind the wheel going nowhere.
Kelley Lannigan will be our poetry feature this Wednesday, 08/16 - 7 pm for Mind Gravy Poetry at Cool Beans, 1217 College Street, Columbia