Tag Archives: isolation

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poem about a table?


“Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—“
                –Emily Dickinson
 
in the center where the people
should be is a red and white
checked cloth which covers the
dining room table where the
parent is working.  the parent
has cut up the picture in order
to save space in the sticky
plastic-covered pages of the
family photograph album.
 
i want to write a poem about
this picture with a hole in the
center where the family should
be, but the parent says i should
write about something else.
 
perhaps then this is not a poem
about the picture.  perhaps it’s
not the picture that’s important.
perhaps it’s the table.
 
think about the table.
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A holy yes?


I’m one of those people who, for better or worse, can only write what’s true.  And the  truth for today is ugly:

I’m overwhelmed.

I’m tired.

I’m disappointed by my seeming inability to cope.

I need a massive infusion of grace.

A holy yes.

So I offer this poem about my struggle to even write:

Country we come to only by leaving 

There are no words

            with weight and

            density

                        only a limp

                        phrase which

                        sags in the

                        center like

                        wet clay

            dampening the tips of

                        fingers

            moistening the verbs

the hinges are in place

            but there is only

            the low blank

            noise of sentences

                 (alone)

I remind myself though that writing is never a solitary  act. 

That is the holy yes!

Yes?