AFTER SHULAMITH
He took with ordinary greed, holding out
a plate he never washed, eyes hooded --
Unless what came his way was blame:
For that he had a crowsnest and alarums,
would shoot down at a distance, shrieking
it was ours, all our faults. A cry
so masculine we cannot hear it any more,
it is the drone of every story copied
into ink or bit. He had no success to claim
except outliving wives, using
more than his share. He did that
moderately well. He signed the cards
others chose and set before him,
let her keep us fed and hushed, claiming
family in that slipknot way we expect.
Man is hard and smooth, the stone
that wears through pocket seams,
a nonsorb surface onto which we
paint imagined humanity
until the reel is changed, or
afternoon showers arrive.
© Maggie Jochild, 31 August 2012, 6:57 am
Friday, August 31, 2012
NEW POEM: AFTER SHULAMITH
JUSTCAPSHUNZ WEEKLY ROUND-UP FOR 31 AUGUST 2012 (BLUE MOON EDITION)
And now the Friday blast from Just Capshunz. Because starting the weekend snarky is a good idea. (Smooch.)
[Arachnophobe alert for next-to-last image.]
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
LOLCATS WEEKLY ROUND-UP FOR 28 AUGUST 2012
Here's the weekly best of what I've gleaned from I Can Has Cheezburger efforts.
There are some really creative folks out there.
And the first one is by our own Little Gator.
Monday, August 27, 2012
NEW POEM: LATENT
LATENT
I knew how to vanish when he was on the prowl:
Leave a screen ajar on one side of the house
then slide between moldy wall and the clawfoot tub.
Enough room if you seldom eat, if you breathe
shallow and silent. Search will move outdoors
until Mama is back from the store. One December
I sat in plain view, the corner of my grandparents' parlor
while my parents drank coffee and went over the presents
bought and hidden. I did not move a twitch, I closed
my eyes. It is true they cannot see you as well if your
eyes are shut. They wearily planned and bickered.
sure I was with the rest at the playground. That night
alone in the dark I practiced the delight I must show
at a doll I did not want. We were awakened early
the next day, still not Christmas, and told to dress
without fuss, we were being driven to a surprise.
My brothers clamored, demanding to know where.
Mama snapped Bill's overalls and ignored it all
with a rare grin. I pulled up my tights before dropping
into a moment of silence "The animal park. They're taking
us to see lions." My mother's face showed fear mixed with
her startle, and my older brother's fury at being left out
was worth my brief scuttle from cover.
© Maggie Jochild, 27 August 2012, 9:01 p.m.
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