Today I sent this for workshopping: (9/2) AFTERWARDS: (10/21) pared off the parentheses and unnecessary trimmings. Re-thought what direction the poem was headed. It makes me realize posting a poem on a blog is just that. A temporary casing for a thought. I mean, how many versions of a draft does anyone REALLY want to see?
Questioning Evidence
What happened to the snail?
(disappearance)
A slip of
a shell
in slim-skinned silence
in a stare of August heat;
(non-interference)
Crabgrass elbows its joints, sleekly
combs its purple-seeded valence,
does not comment on the abandoned ship.
(surveillance?)
Did anyone see the snail disembark?
(perseverance)
Not the milkweed,
closed within seed-podded vigilance,
nor the cow parsley fleetly
seeking a full-hipped, laced-bell chance
to chorus line circumstance
(incoherence)
A snail does not leave its shell –
and yet here is this litter of shells in the garden.
(disappearance)
It reminds me of the fading images of Cambodian faces
printed on leaves, hanging in the museum.
(non-interference)
nameless victims in mass graves
(surveillance)
we are reminded not to forget
(incoherence)
each year, new snails, new shells.
(perseverance)
new snails, shells.
9/2/2010
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