Tuesday, May 26, 2009

A Farewell to Abstracts

Nine this morning,
I sipped coffee
and death walked out.
No look back,
no metal and manufactured
laminates slammed
into a shivering frame.
No, death simply went
and he was gone.

At ten-twelve, love
rose from her place
at the kitchen table.
She ignored me,
the moon remained
in heaven, the air
dividing us refused
to become an ocean
and dishes in the sink
stubbornly huddled
in their grimy coats.
Love followed death
and she was also gone.

At half-past eleven,
I contemplated a lunch
of tuna and lettuce rinds,
heard the whispered pace
of time, neither rapid,
nor slow, in the upstairs
hallway, then descending.
Time ticked and clicked
as he passed my place
in the livingroom.
He briefly glanced
at the blank page
in front of me,
then he was gone.

Alone, I continued
my search for
a word – large enough
to fill an empty page
with poetry – a word
smaller than love,
death, or time, yet
more far-reaching than
the universe of I.


Aisha said...

You talk like you mean it, brother!
Not many abstracts here, you're right:
no metal and manufactured
laminates slammed
into a shivering frame.

Should go into a poetry text book as a great example against the abstracts...

Like Death, this poem has legs, as they put it on the PFFA (the muses rest their souls).

Jacob Russell said...

That's the idea, isn't it... that we have to overcome. Someplace on the other side... maybe a poem can happen?

Carol Saba said...

Hi Helm,

This is an amazing poem...the irony of Death and Love leaving when everyone knows they last forever and cannot be touched by Time.

Also, the aloneness of the last stanza, without the company of the Big Three, is exactly what was searched for I think--far-reaching, and universal.

I really like it.