In the Groove
Katherine Edgren
I take the helm for the first leg, then turn it over to Anna.
Fearless now, heading up, shipping water, heeling,
feet braced under straps, hiking out far as we ever have,
hanging on so we aren’t flung overboard.
She laughs at my flashy yellow wet gear,
but she’s envious when I put it on.
Waves break over the bow, drenching us.
I’m her buffer, she rides in my draft.
We’ve been chased off the lake by lightning in a lurid green sky,
and we’ve lived through our own turbulence—
times she couldn’t stand to hear my voice, doors
slammed. In that territory between not child,
not yet adult on a teetering deck together, hormones roiling.
My too-fervent hopes for her. Finally, we learned
to navigate distances, finding the space needed
to perfect the right balance, to trust each other
the way we trust the centerboard to plow a straight course
despite knock-down gales.
Today, alert for gusts and fluky wind, we stay in the groove,
always scanning to be sure the rigging holds,
measuring larger waves with our eyes—how wet we’re getting—
pointing at loons diving, crowds of birds resembling gulls,
but not gulls, churning waves rushing our boat,
the wind turning sharp, lines pulling tight, the tiller hard to hold.
Mother, daughter, doesn’t matter. Tacking, pinching,
shivering, we are sailors on yellow-hulled boat
in a great wind, heading home.
Katherine Edgren
Katherine has two books of poetry: Keeping Out the Noise, (Kelsay Books) and The Grain Beneath the Gloss, (Finishing Line Press,) plus two chapbooks. Her work has appeared in Coe Review, Birmingham Poetry Review, Light, Hanging Loose Press, Orchards Poetry Journal, The Brussels Review, Third Wednesday, and Four Tulips, among others. She headed up a department at University Health Service, and served as a Project Manager through the University of Michigan, and as an Ann Arbor City Councilmember. She is a retired social worker and a grandmother of four.