Molly Tenenbaum

They Find Me

On the grass beneath the feeder, among the sunflower hulls.
In my sock feet, hand on half a catnip mouse.

In the sand, do they ever find me
below the garnet grains, in the crux
of a white sponge spicule?
I’m clinking among the oolds.

They’ve found my calendula, teaspoon.
They’ve found my cuspid and dipthong.
Out the window on the bushes
where pomace was tossed after crushing.

In the shop of the man who boils down the gold
the thieves bring by cufflink, by tie-clip, by tooth,
lining up to drop each one on the gleaming heap—
they find me at the bottom of the pot.

All this time, I’ve been searching the world
for the stolen rings that were my mother’s.

They knew me by the shoe caught in the chain of the swing.
On my face, an expression of curly brackets.
Cut me open to find the ballet in progress.

What are the odds the leaf would fall directly on the lyre?
What are the odds that through the missing
bottom of the cup, a bright red fish would swim?

A string plucked in the room behind them made them turn.
When they found me, I was in a boat,
they could not believe it, I was still rowing.

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Molly Tenenbaum is the author of four books of poems, most recently Mytheria (Two Sylvias Press, 2017) and The Cupboard Artist (Floating Bridge, 2012). Her chapbook/artist book, Exercises to Free the Tongue (2014), a collaboration with artist Ellen Ziegler, combines poems with archival materials about ventriloquism. Her poems have appeared in The Beloit Poetry Journal, Best American Poetry, New England Review, Poetry, Poetry Northwest, Prairie Schooner and elsewhere. Her recordings of old-time Appalachian banjo are Instead of a Pony  and Goose & Gander. She lives in Seattle, teaching at North Seattle College and Dusty Strings Music School.