Settler's Song

By Joanne Merriam

All this time I loved you and never guessed.

I didn't know about luyebread, winter cladophylls, water's

refusal to freeze. Restfulness. I've acquiesced.

I didn't know I loved the sound of dehiscing flodders.

I didn't know about luyebread, winter cladophylls, water's

smooth coolness in the oven summers' throat unbeaten,

I didn't know I loved the sound of dehiscing flodders.

Didn't know about spotberry tea never before drunk unsweetened,

its smooth coolness in the oven summers' throat unbeaten,

pulling prickles out of tambalan and sucking them nectar-clean.

Didn't know about spotberry tea never before drunk unsweetened,

sol juleps, fried jambwort, the ubiquity of mycopeen,

pulling prickles out of tambalan and sucking them nectar-clean,

the way plumigan flock to the mowthorn at suggestions of snow.

Sol juleps, fried jambwort, even the ubiquity of mycopeen.

The new-fallen way the hacahuistes glow.

The way plumigan flock to the mowthorn at suggestions of snow,

this refusal to freeze. Restfulness. I've acquiesced

to the new-fallen way the hacahuistes glow.

Andromeda, I loved you all along and never guessed.


Joanne Merriam lies during Truth or Dare, and has a dictionary named after her. Her poetry collection The Glaze from Breaking (Stride, 2005) is available online and in the UK, and you should go buy it. You can find her at joannemerriam.com and also in our archives.