I wish I couldn't speak the language
of never-ending elegy,
that I could unlearn its alphabet.
That I didn't have to bail out the water
of this vessel I never asked for, upended
like a husk ripped from the fruit
of a garden long gone.
A piece a week for the month of January. New Shit Only. Don't forget to tag your piece with your name! That's the ONLY TAG you'll use.
I love how the language (I wish I couldn't...could unlearn...didn't have...never asked) insists on a labor from the reader in minding the inversions/negatives the way the subject labors in the world of their poem.
ReplyDeleteThere's no waste here, and everything's working together - super tight!
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