The University of Texas at Austin

Law in Popular Culture collection

The Legal Studies Forum
Volume 30, Number 1/2 (2006)
reprinted by permission Legal Studies Forum

Lawyers & Poets
A World Inhabited

REBECCA CLARK
_______________________

Baby Born In Tree
Sophia Pedro gave birth to a baby girl
in a treetop during flooding
in Mozambique, July 2000.

Wet-leafed arms for the cradle,
a bassinet of branches that rock
to the rhythm of each laborious
shudder, winged tenants
your nervous midwives,
as the occasional waterlogged
snake seeks refuge, hisses softly
at your arduous moans,
the green rattle of leaves,
the breeze that fans your fevered brow.

With each contraction
your arms grasp round
the thick strong trunk,
only its back brave enough
to hold you aloft, to keep you from dropping
down to that swirling world below
like a leaf afloat
on its first breath, swimming out
beyond your wildest hope.

[603]

 
Morning Drive

The morning air is sharp
as glass. The crack
etched in the windshield
like a contrail traced
over the blue shell of sky.
At the bottom of the hill,
a glimpse of something perfect:
the starling that bobs
across the path of my car,
the trees blossomed in gold leaf,
the arch of crisp light.

Just that instant.

I close my eyes,
hold my breath to remember
what's already gone.

[604]

 
Sun Bird
. . . the phoenix outlives nine ravens,
but we, the rich-haired Nymphs . . .
outlive ten phoenixes.


- Hesiod (c.700 BCE)
All morning ravens cry their dismay
calling up the dream
where you and I drive along the riverbank
over a stubble of trees
cut feet above the ground.
We follow no road, only the curve
of shore. I close my eyes
as we slide into the green ripple
where we sink, of course, like stones.
I remember not to breathe, surprised
at the painlessness of fear,
crank the window open wide enough
to swim into the filtered light, pull you
through the narrow space. We kick up
toward the memory of air,
break the surface, breathe down
into our deepest depths.

Now, the birds fly across the scarred land
on our southern boundary as if to survey
the damage exposed by sun's light:
stumps reduced to a pile of smoldering ash;
but through the lacey curtain
that drapes the northern window,
the Rock Rose's papery blooms
glow like flames.

[605]


Rebecca Clark manages a volunteer lawyer program in Washington's Skagit Valley where she lives with her husband and daughter. She has had recent poems in Rattle, Heliotrope, Literary Salt, and Pontoon 8, and has work forthcoming in Switched on Gutenberg and Pearl.
"Baby Born in Tree" was previously published in Wicked Alice; "Morning Drive" first appeared in Avocet; "Sun Bird" in Kaleidowhirl.