traces: a poem
November 19, 2012 § Leave a Comment
Here’s a poem I wrote the other day. Thought some of you might appreciate it.
traces
Pencil, pen, sometimes in combination
Scrawled along the margin
Underline, asterisk; surely important
At least for now
Books, paper, clothes, on the floor
Like leaves in the fall
pressure
I have two weeks
I keep telling myself
I have four weeks
My voice echoes
I have one life
ceremony
Sirens again
The dogs howl
Somehow sacramental
Charged through with ether
cold
Sickness, temperature
Where I teach and where I live
Too often, in my heart
beauty
In the routine, the mess
This world shimmers
motion
This fluidity dancing around me
It ends and begins; the wine and the bread; the new and the old, bursting forth.
