write a poem about a landmark of some kind
Death Valley
A thousand years from most starting points,
A thousand turns from anywhere anyone was meant to be,
Another many, countless stops for water, directions, rebirths of small
and various kinds
Then someone might see it.
I never will.
Just my name, my nickname,
Two letters twice – (okay for my two lives)
in rocks, little rocks, just right.
Nowhere. Nothing too much
That I didn’t spell it makes it all the more personal
As if some flesh of my heart is exposed
To the rising, high and burning sun
The silky, chilling, moving moon
To the steady, climbing, thoughtless sun
To the milky, thinning, wanting moon
Arriving light and bitter day
Expanding dark and calming cool
Again and again
Under this portrait
The smallest of shadows
moving
from east to west
again
A jackrabbit might kick my name apart.
And when that happens, even if I’m already dead,
I will be
More and more
Nowhere.
A little less
here.
A little less
loved.
2 comments:
For some reason, I thought of ancient Israel and the biblical 'writers' producing progeny to be remembered. Not saying that's a bad thing in any way, in fact, a compliment. Who do I thank for making this poetry month possible? I'll just thank you for accepting the challenge. then.
and thank you for sitting through those technical difficulties.
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