Women Artists Datebook

East of Remote

                      Joseph, Oregon

It takes me three days to breathe,
to let my body slump into sleep.
I had forgotten crisp mornings
and places where sun rises
before grey and damp, before
sadness has a chance to settle.

Here, birds knock on trees and poles,
on dreams. I forgot roads flat, true
as a two-by-four, and trucks that rattle
past rodeo grounds, grain elevators
and a sign that says Beer Sold Here.
Everything hangs by hard country luck.

My camera seeks ruin,
finds shambles and sinking,
broken down barns, roofs and doors,
places and people holding on but barely.
Everything, everywhere, falling, patched.

At the bed and breakfast,
the man next door
whistles in the shower.
I had forgotten the sound of ease.

- Drew Myron

This poem appears in the 2013 Women Artists Datebook, a portable print calendar featuring art and poetry by more than 30 women artists. The datebook is published by the Syracuse Cultural Workers, a progressive publisher committed to peace, sustainability, social justice, feminism and multiculturalism, and can be purchased here.