Hey, have I ever thanked you all for reading my poems? Some of you I get to hear from in person and you give me your comments; I really appreciate knowing how a poem makes you react. Many thanks to those who post their comments here.
It's been a while since I've put any poems up, so I hope y'all are still curious. Tom and I just got back yesterday from our trip to Finland, and I decided this morning (after frantically cleaning, restocking, and organizing my house) that I would take some time to revise a poem I wrote while I was gone. Actually, it's the ONLY poem I wrote while I was gone. Ach, schade! I'll get back into a groove soon enough, I hope. Once the jetlag wears off. :)
There's actually a poem I wrote just before I left that I haven't posted...I'm still giving thought to how I feel about posting poems before submitting them to magazines for publication consideration. I mean, I know I'm not some super-hot, in-demand, pulitzer-hauling, cigarette-and-beret, knock-em-out-like-a-machine poet or anything, but it's a good point...how much can we share if we want to send out totally clean submissions? Hm. So far, I'm leaning more toward posting the majority of my work here anyway because it's all so rough and unrevised. By the time it gets sent anywhere it's had some reconstructive work that renders it...different? in some way? Anyway, this poem, it's called Death of a Stray Cat and I think it might be worth at least five cents because Mr. Marvin Bell (super-hot, in-demand poet) says I should "send it out and get a big, fat check for it." Anyone of you who would like to read it, please contact me and I'll send it along. As if you don't have busy lives to live already! Which brings me back to my original point...thank you all for taking the time to read and comment. I appreciate it.
Here's that poem I wrote. Hope you're all well!
we’re ice fishing on the pyhajarvi
where there’s just enough room for a campfire
on the little island in the center of the lake.
heikki and I are talking about americans
and he’s complaining that they all say hello the same way.
my finnish isn’t spot on
but I disagree with him wholeheartedly.
only women have one way of saying hello.
heikki says he’s too cold to argue
but I can feel my toes again now the fire’s going.
he starts opening and closing his hands
until we both notice a silver moth
burrowing up out of the snow between us.
it’s a struggle that puts the size of snowflakes
but the moth makes it out of the tunnel he’s dug
and shakes his wings a bit,
leaves a circle of grey dust on the ice
before lifting off and bobbing around our heads.
ah shit, heikki says, he thinks it’s spring!
it’s our fire warming the ground, I add.
sure enough the moth drops
and starts bouncing around the flames
just inches away from the heart of it.
the heat pushes him away at first.
fire’s a kind killer, I think out loud.
heikki just frowns and watches the moth.
it’s near two minutes before the flames
stop pushing and lick him up wings first.