We built this cairn as we keened,
this flinty cairn marking us across blind fog,
above red fjords of solstice and equinox.
We fit stones together with our woolen hands.
We built this obelisk of haloes,
this obelisk of petrified cosmic dust,
focusing waves of zodiacal light.
Like lead and fire, together we yielded gold.
We built this parabola on ciphers,
parabola detecting rhythms of the planets,
faraway sulfurous ponds of biopoesis.
Together we whisper, is anyone out there?
We built this fractal antenna on the wing,
this tiny antenna receiving microwaves
through solar fountains and solar conjunctions.
Together we resonate across the continuum.
Katherine Williams, of Los Angeles and Charleston SC, has authored three chapbooks and given readings throughout both coasts. A Pushcart nominee, she has poems in Measure, Diagram, Spillway, Poemeleon, Rappahannock Review, and various anthologies. A community arts activist and surfer, she works in biomedical research and lives on James Island with her husband, poet Richard Garcia.
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