My Baba rokus through her TV apps,
calls up the Royal Shakespeare Company,
scrolls through her favorite plays with salt-edged tongue
as mildew mixes notes through screen porch walls.
Her bayhouse pinks on scenic 98.
The tide of her mind recedes. Her memories
attempt to fix their shape like algae drying
on a pine wharf: she acts out Gielgud’s Lear
who fled to wilderness, bouquet in hand,
and when she flees, I’ll search the yard on Christmas
to find her wandering the yard beneath the stars.
A moonlit shade below live oaks, she storms
to the bulkhead’s edge, some unrhymed verse her cliff.
Beneath her: sod then clay then dream then
Scot Langland is a queer poet who grew up in Alabama. He now happily resides in Fayetteville as a MFA candidate in poetry at the University of Arkansas. His poetry has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Best New Poets 2018, RHINO Poetry, Waccamaw, Poetry South, and Bayou Magazine among others.