I had so many false starts this morning. Some days are easy. Even if I don't love what I'm writing, I finish something. This morning felt like I was pushing a sleepy elephant out of the way. I've never done such a thing. It just seemed appropriate.
Your One Person
When you found it,
you wanted to be ashamed
and want seems enough.
To keep one thing for yourself,
even if it’s death,
when home is so stuffed with living
seems an ok trade in the world.
It is just very medical,
so science class pull down chart colorful,
the way the skin gloved at the wrist,
the open labyrinth of guts.
The smell is not unlike the fetal pig
you and Jenny M. touched hands in.
Not unlikeable really.
Sometimes likeable is anything different.
Victim of the flood.
With the face buried, it could be
anyone you needed.
Even better versions of the living.
It’s ok to have one person
be just yours, be only for you.
In this life, a lot of things are ok.
Learn that here.
What I love about these recent poems is that they all seem to come after the climax of some incredible story. That, or they seem like instructions from the poet in the very moment of the climax of some incredible story. As if the movie stopped to allow the poem to come in and influence (i think thats the right word) the decisive moment.
ReplyDeleteI love that the poems don't tell the story, or what happens after the "moment of influence", but still, what incredible stories. standing over a flood victim, waiting out a storm on a beach (lieutenant Dan style). Just really great stuff.