I was born in the early evening
behind an old door at the end

                                                of autumn.

Imagine a woman with child.
A mouthful of hair.
A fist forming.
A stone bathtub & a rough sink.
Thick paste of salt 

                                    & cold 

applied directly to 

                        the stain.

Blue eyes. 
A collective 
                        gasp.

The hardwood ladder 
            leaning 

                                                against 

the shadow of dead cells
nightgowned 
                        in moon. 

                          
                         *

I was raised 

            in the surrounding grass-covered ruins
between 

                        rhubarb & riverine. 

When I was a child

there were no words for this        cool

simplicity, 

            collapsing 

                                  over time.

When the water was low

think:
                            field created by lightning


            kaleidoscope of back 
            & forth.

Imagine:

                                  its voice
                                  more like a chorus. 

Its sudden squall.

Digging

the fossils
that drowned 

trying to
          reach us.

Copyright © 2023 by Adam J. Gellings. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on October 16, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.

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“Early childhood experiences compel me to explore the fertile spaces of my life and relationships as part of my approach to writing. ‘Somewhere Else’ is an example of that source material at work.”
—Adam J. Gellings