by Annette Sisson
Water striders walk
on fluid skin, feet
faintly bending surface,
push-back propelling
them forward. Their pads press
visible dents into the lake’s
glaze, ingrained on the retina’s
membrane. This is not
a miracle. Still. If humans
walked on water, would
we ever opt to swim?
And if we scurried barefoot
across liquid rind, molecules
clumping before each footfall,
would we, at the lake’s deep
center, think our questions
answered? Would bullfrogs replace
the call to mystery? Would
brain lose its skill
for beyond, eyes cease
to measure depth, or even
see a strider’s surface
imprint as it skims for the slightest
mite, as brief, as tense, as an inkling?
ANNETTE SISSON lives in Nashville, TN, where she is Professor of English at Belmont University, and enjoys traveling (pre-Covid-19), hiking, baking, choral singing, watching birds, and supporting theater. She has published poems in many journals, including Nashville Review, Typishly, One, KAIROS, and Turtle Island Quarterly. She also published a chapbook A Casting Off (2019, Finishing Line). She was named a 2020 BOAAT Writing Fellow, received honorable mention in Passager’s 2019 poetry contest, and won The Porch Writers’ Collective’s 2019 poetry prize. She recently completed her first full-length book of poetry, Small Fish in High Branches, and has begun the quest for a publisher.
Photo: “Itsy Bitsy Spiders” by Steve Corey
Psaltery & Lyre 