or Castor canadensis
I never build when he’s on the clock,
silently pacing the riverbank.
I am South of being the right mammal.
I thought I was a keystone species,
my skills alter this place
for others to survive.
Building my dam, the wet sticks
scratch my palms, my cheeks,
but I keep going. Someone once told me
there isn’t anything wrong with me
despite my mental hypochondria,
that I’m like a season, coming back
with rotation on the mind.
That even I can bloom in the present
and I start to believe what little truth
the water can tell. I want to hold back
and I build higher. It doesn’t take much
for the whole thing to crash down,
an eager disaster, a reason to give up.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 24, Issue 3.
Sarah Lilius is am the author of the full-length poetry collection, Dirty Words (Indie Blu(e) Publishing 2021) and six chapbooks including GIRL (dancing girl press, 2017) and Traffic Girl (Ghost City Press, 2020). Some of her publication credits include Fourteen Hills, Boulevard, Massachusetts Review and New South. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Best of the Net Prize. She lives in Virginia with her husband and two sons. Her website is sarahlilius.com.
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