A Cargo of Green Hearts
~POEMS~
someone said how unfortunate, we New Englanders
to have all these rocks that cannot be put away that just lie about the landscape like vagrant retirees that float to the surface seasonally buoyed by the hands of the dead (who keep pushing them up from an underworld which surely must be too crowded) that break and bend the banana-long teeth of hay rakes that stumble the necessary axle and bend the beloved rod that embed curses on the roadside and hang them in the air to dry but I don’t feel resentment at the sight of the irregular heads the lichen-starred nose and bony scree dumped as if from the wastebasket of a volcano, no I have invited them into my house I have walked across their backbones barefoot I have whispered prayers into the cracked ear and oak-split skull--call me a paranoid fool but every day I implore them: please stay a little longer as if they might not and sail away leaving nothing but the air and sea for us to stand on--they to whom a second is our eon--but if they’ve listened and have taken my supplication to heart perhaps it will be proved a million years hence the value of praying to things we do not believe could speak or move. Comments are closed.
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Poetry LogPoems are posted here when I'm ready to share them. I often don't title my poems. The date you see above the poem may be the date it was posted here and not necessarily the date it was created. To see more, click on the Archives below. Archives
January 2020
CategoriesUnless otherwise noted, all content ©Paul-William Gagnon, Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-NoDerivs license.
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