photo by Ernst Schneider
POETRY
Lupine Field: Moosehead Lake
by Kevin Casey
There is a picture that shows
my daughter in a field of lupines:
mauve cobs piled in waves, receding
back to the ring of birches; above—
a blue as clear as a sacring bell.
My daughter stands with their leaves
about her knees like petitioning hands,
a nest of palms opening to the sky,
and these amethyst spires rise to the height
of that bright, impatient smile.
Through the cloud of black flies we dodged
running back to the car, and through
the smudged lens of the drugstore camera
that sought to show, and this mess of symbols
that seeks to mean, still—she was there,
she and I, and we shared those flowers. ■
Kevin Casey (“Lupine Field: Moosehead Lake,” p. 17) is a graduate of the University of Massachusetts–Amherst and received his graduate degree at the University of Connecticut. His work has been accepted by The Milo Review, Futures Trading, Tule Review, and others, and he has served as editor for Crosscut Magazine. He teaches literature at a small university in Maine, where he enjoys fishing, snowshoeing, and hiking.
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