Directions to Our House

Heading northeast you will pass a wall of evergreens roughly the length of my ancestors,

standing awkwardly on each other’s shoulders. Some came steerage, others sipped in estates,

all of them live here, all of them tower above me. Each contains the naked seed, unafraid. For

what would fear solve? The seed cannot be abdicated. Look for the mile marker that says how far from civilization we are. Take the second exit. By late afternoon, there will be obdurate shadows. Signs say coast but the earliest sign of life is movement so stumble down to the Trask and squat

and watch for speckled alevin, moving from gravel to freedom.

Merridawn Duckler is a writer and visual artist from Oregon and author of INTERSTATE (dancing girl press) IDIOM (Washburn Prize, Harbor Review) MISSPENT YOUTH (rinky dink press) and ARRANGEMENT (Southernmost Books). She won the Beullah Rose Poetry Contest from Smartish Pace. Work in Seneca Review, Interim, Posit, Ninth Letter, Ploughshares, and Best Small Fictions 2025. www.merridawnduckler.com Instagram: @merridawnduckler