inheriting ghosts
— David Mucklow
down on Horsetooth Reservoir the lights of a patrol boat and buoys
together in the pale of night I’m on my way
to get a beer with my brother
I realized today how much my father looks like his father
how much my brother looks like my father too
showing up in poems disguised as drunk old men
with wisdom measured by myths the wrinkles on their face
like a relief map of life’s weight the reservoir barely disguises
its surface with this last bit of sunlight on the clouds
Sherman granite weathered a soft tan hiding grey in the night
the boats circle slow round the edge of the lake
before the lake a valley of sandstone broken into
an anticline
hogback from thrust-birth of mountains
and there were buffalo here once much older ones
buffalo bigger and bigger going back to the Pleistocene
there is a town buried under this reservoir that drowns
the same way maps show roads
but avoid showing houses avoid showing
all the people we’ve killed to be here
many fathers have made lives here
a shallow ocean the father of sandstone subduction the father of
orogeny the father of these mountains of schist and granite and gneiss
fathers like these talk about weather and land but
not themselves
in all those lights down the hill
people are breathing and I want to believe
we all belong here and are warm in our houses our jackets
but we’re all here erasing ourselves
the way high above me
glaciers erased mountains
into you-shaped valleys
the cold of the wind traces
the curves of my face against it
all the lives beneath it
pull the flannel around me tighter
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