You Make Me Tremble by Karis Walsh

Author:Karis Walsh [Walsh, Karis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626399020
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2017-05-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Casey read Iris’s poem slowly as they drove back to the ferry landing. Once Iris had maneuvered the pickup on board, Casey read the poem again. Neither of them seemed to have any interest in standing on the observation deck in the cold again for the short trip back to Friday Harbor, so they remained inside the warm cab.

Iris leaned against the driver’s side door with her head resting on the window and her eyes looking forward, toward home. Casey struggled to find the right words to explain how she felt about Iris’s poem, and she reread it again silently to give herself time to think.

Iris had listened to her talk about the Turtleback Complex with the indulgent expression people usually offered to children who prattled on about nothing in particular, and she hadn’t seemed to grasp the importance of what Casey was trying to express. But Iris had understood Casey, in a way she hadn’t experienced before. Reading Iris’s poem was like hearing herself talk—inside her head, where the meaning and the words were connected in a way they rarely were when spoken out loud. She felt as if the poem had been written for and about her alone, but she guessed that it was personal for Iris as well.

“I think I’ve come up with the definition of a truly great poet,” Casey said, speaking quietly in the enclosed space. The sky was already growing dark, as the early winter sunset and the heavy cloud cover teamed up to give Casey the feeling that she and Iris were all alone in the world.

Iris shifted until her back and shoulders were against the door and she was facing Casey. “What’s your definition?”

“A great poet somehow hears the conversations you have inside your head, and then writes them down using the exact right words, so you understand perfectly what you were trying to say to yourself. I know how much I love those ancient rocks, and I thought I knew why, but you explained me better than I could ever do myself.”

Iris smiled. “I’m glad you like the poem. It’s yours if you want it.”

Casey appreciated how easily Iris was able to give a part of herself away, but she suspected it was as much because Iris didn’t understand the true worth of her creation as it was because she was exceptionally generous. The cab was too cozy, and she was too comfortable being this close to Iris to risk putting distance between them by bringing up publishing again, so Casey held herself back from offering Iris more encouragement to sell her poems. “Thank you. I love it,” she said instead.

She closed her eyes and rested in the quiet. The truck rocked slightly as waves broke against the side of the ferry. The smell of damp dog—Chert loved to go swimming every chance he got—and sea air filled the cab. Casey hadn’t realized salt water had such a distinctive aroma, but the two scents followed her everywhere these days and had come to mean something to her.

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