Barometric Pressure

Always start with poems about places

that sing themselves as if they were a whir 

of mid-august heat bugs. Begin each

with words by other people, famous

or should be famous, stoically preserved.

Start them with the things others say 

about the curvature that lives must follow 

so as to say we are not alone in our time

and these moments all now belong as much

to them as it does to us. Colonel Talbot

and Tecumseh and Hiriam Walker rising

and falling and casting long shadows

upon the prairies and cleared forest. Speak

those words in the only voice given,

one-in-the-same as the crack of ice

against the shore, deep horns calling fog

in the distance, fishflies popping under 

foot, and the descent of jetliners across 

the border that separates treaty makers 

from those that straddle the boundaries 

of their inheritance. Repeat it all

because to be alone is to have only land,

and memories of soil and rock are measured

by the passage of cold and warm fronts.

Born in Chatham, Ontario and raised in Windsor, D.A. Lockhart holds degrees from Trent University, Montana State University and Indiana University, where he held a Neal­ Marshall Graduate Fellowship in Creative Writing. His work has appeared in the Windsor Review, Sugar House Review, the Mackinac, Straylight Literary Magazine and Construction among others. He is a research consultant and is editor-­in-­chief for Urban Farmhouse Press based out of Windsor. He is a member of the Moravian of the Thames First Nation. His first collection of poems, Big Medicine Comes to Erie, will be released this fall by Black Moss Press.