by Bill Yarrow
“I lingered before her stall, though
I knew my stay was useless...”
--“Araby”
I watched my friends check
out the scene, check
out their options, check
out their futures, check
out of the market of the world
The ghosts of my companions
haunt the Crum woods
the bell tower, the windy
gallery, the reddened rooms
of learning to wait
What else has life got
to offer the living? Nothing
is gained by remembering
the oranges of that time,
the sapphire mystery
And the dark dogs of dreaming—
where do they figure in the absence?
One part of a hand is missing,
missing from the dark
face of a lost watch
What does the future hold?
Hands. The hands of a watch.
My father gave me a watch
but I misplaced it. My mother
searched for it her whole life.
What is a whole life? An insect
limping back to the nest. All his
insect friends are there: Brian the bee
without a wing. Sam the ant sans
antenna. Betsy Beetle, carapace cracked.
It's good to be home.
It's good to be home.
It's very good to be home
where we can linger
before the useless stalls.
3
favs |
797 views
6 comments |
204 words
All rights reserved. |
This poem was published in Counterexample Poetics in 2009.
Thank you, Felino Soriano!
The poem appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX, 2012).
Bill, no one can do poetry like you.
Bill - this takes my mental breath away.
Nice piece, Bill. Good connection with Joyce. I like the ending.
"Nothing/is gained by remembering/the oranges of that time,/the sapphire mystery."
Many quotable lines, but that one took me away.
Geometrically op-artistic Cliff Notes for the subconcious mind's interpretation of the revelation that love and existence are vanity and desire makes us delusional.
That's what I think anyhow.
So weird! Jim Robison said exactly what I was going to say. Well, no. I was just going to say I love this. Sam the Ant, Betsy Beetle, Brian the Bee...yes.