by Sierra Golden
Baranof Hot Springs, AK After a good soak I stand sockless in my Xtratufs and sweats, I pluck blueberries one after another A warm summer drizzle begins, I watch it squish up the sides of my boots, and with stained, wrinkled fingers, twist They say that bears can smell berries I wouldn’t hear his padded feet his matted fur snagging pine needles and twigs How strange it would be to think after watching his pink tongue stretch |
Sierra Golden received her MFA in poetry from North Carolina State University. Winner of the program’s 2012 Academy of American Poets Prize, Golden’s work appears or is forthcoming in literary journals such as Fourth River, Tar River Poetry, and Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, as well as place-based anthologies about the Pacific Northwest. Though she calls Washington State home, Golden has spent time in Spain, Mexico, and Argentina and spends summers in Alaska, working as a commercial fisherman.
Very tactile description. I feel it.
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