Untitled (beaver)
Katherine Duckworth

Imagine this ground a sponge. The babbling brook?  A mire.

Of dead wood
Of silt and matter

Diminutive Venetians. Their pelts
used to settle debts, and at one time, so
abundant that they were burned

Temaquee, one who cuts wood


Look – there are veins
of limestone cutting through. At one time, so abundant
that they were bombed. Rainwater drips

No, weeps and forms
an assemblage of new stone. We

silent as it sounds out.

Before Rosendale cement (the material
of …all this)

a shallow sea, monumented by the
Black Chanterelle - sound horn
resonating coral

Coolidge said Brains are burnished on what Bud threw away

(there’s that dripping, again)

But submerge the hide into a lake, the minnows will begin
the fleshing process

Remove the hair and the grain

The flesh and the fat

Rinse overnight in a creek, the water must be flowing

Combine the brain with warm water, and
Using your hands to soften, work the brain into the hide

Beverly, or, Beaver meadow, or, collapsed century

Katherine Duckworth received her MFA from Brooklyn College in 2019. She lives and teaches in Brooklyn, NY.

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