Monday, September 5, 2011

golden age or churning of the waters

the peach            sliced in half            fell open
gladiolas            stuck out their tiny            purple tongues
and strawberry blossoms            by magic            became strawberries

still your doubts hover            swoop in and out of your brain
following an unknown will            behind me
behind me            behind me
where oh where
                                 did the fruits with
their sugar and petals go?

it was that spring            the one people talk about
but it's gone            and somehow you know
you were never there for it

up under the mind            come floodwaters in the night
dark            and rotting what they touch

get behind me
i see it coming            and suspect
i am less necessary than you

behind me            where
shall we wait            for the boats that won't come
for the turtles            lumbering and snapping their mouths
to float us            towards a different death            one followed
by a spring            we may never see

2 comments:

  1. this one almost works to read as two separate poems. Intentional?

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  2. Not at all, but an interesting note. I think I overdid it somewhat, but I was experimenting with using the spaces as grammatical pauses, kind of Anglo-Saxon caesura-style.

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