Richard Ryal    Plantation     (LD)
Lola Begins


I drift through my dark, a hull without rudder,
to follow a bell only I hear.
I can’t tell you the truth, I can only mutter.

I want to pray but I barely can stutter.
Certain I’m guided, still I can’t steer,
adrift through my dark, a hull without rudder.

My heart tests its sails, it races and flutters.
My mouth wants to howl, give wind to this fear
But I can’t tell you the truth, I can only mutter.

My faith is too weak. Like a new calf at udder
I take it all in, then stumble back, veer
and drift through my dark, a hull without rudder.

A honey thick current bears me into utter
ruin. In my small mirror, new faces appear.
I can’t tell you their truth, I can only mutter.

Then this terrible grace gives me one last shudder
and passes, familiar pains return with their sear.
I drift through my dark, a hull without rudder.
I can’t tell you the truth, I can only mutter.


Originally published in Notre Dame Review Issue No. 55, Summer/Winter 2023