Nov 13 09: Gardener’s Hands

November 14, 2009 § 3 Comments

the_unmade_bedHere’s my excuse for not posting on Poetic Asides’ prompt yesterday – it was Friday the 13th! How can one possibly write on such a densely superstitious day? The poem is bound to be fated.

Buy it? Yea. Didn’t think so. The truth is I never saw the prompt; I was traveling for work, and didn’t read it until midnight: For today’s prompt, I want you to write a renewable poem. I suppose you could write about renewable energy or renewable books (from the library). But there are other ways to come at this, too. Vows are renewable, as are promises and oaths. In fact, if you think about it long enough, it’s hard to think of things that aren’t renewable.

Reading this again, I must say I forgot the prompt mentioned a library book, so there is a bit of unconscious thievery in my poem.

Gardener’s Hands

He’s here again – the date-skinned, compressed man
with gardener’s hands – always unrequested,
a library book misordered by a sleepy reader.
Sometimes we reconcile and marry quick
and secret. Sometimes I pack his bags
while his fierce eyes glaze into scorched pottery.  

I am multiple; we are the scarab tapping on Jung’s window.

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