From Goat Rock Point
after Wallace Stevens
I found a bottle on Goat Rock
and placed my hand upon the glass.
The hills surrounding it rushed in,
and in it all the world was still.
The snow-capped trees across the gorge
stopped dancing in the snow-filled wind,
and all the birds now held within
stopped sounding out their wintry songs.
It rested on its side as if
abandoned after one last spin—
the way we leave behind our dreams
when dawn’s first ghostly light creeps in.
I tipped my gaze up to the sky,
then to the world inside the glass,
and took it with me when I left,
that green and dusty port of air.
Kaecey McCormick is a writer living in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her poetry and prose have found homes in different places, including Pine Hills Review, Jabberwock Review, One Sentence Poems, Third Wednesday, and Clockhouse. She is the author of chapbooks Sleeping with Demons (2023) and Pixelated Tears (2018). She served as poet laureate for the city of Cupertino, teaches poetry at The Writers Studio, and is a current Steinbeck Fellow at SJSU. When not writing, you can find Kaecey hiking up a mountain, painting, or reading a book. Connect at kaeceymccormick.com.
