POETRY

The Almanac Keeper

You have to say them in order—that’s the whole trick

Image by wirestock on Magnific

I was given the book, the spring
my mother lost her teeth
and could not say the years anymore
only point at them

She kept it forty winters
I have kept it forty-one
Tomorrow I carry it down the hill
to the fire you voted for
and I am not here to argue
I am here to say it once more
while there is still a mouth that knows the order

The year of the double frost
when the plum came into blossom twice and set nothing
the year the cattle bloated in the low field
because no one remembered the yellow flower
and my mother did
and was not asked

The year the well went bad
and we drank from the rain barrels
until the rain barrels went bad

You have to say them in order
that is the whole trick
a frost is only a frost
until you know it comes back every ninth year
give or take a year