Routines

On this day I choose not
to take a large axe
it’s smooth handle and heavy head,
plunge it deep into your chest.

To take up an axe
would leave meaning on the table
the deep plunge of your chest
left for flowers and worms.

Meaning is left, from the table
I see only white walls.
You are out planting flowers
where the snakes knotted just yesterday.

I look up and see only white walls.
The birds chirping too loudly
at the snakes knotted in the grass,
I have nothing left to give.

The sound of chirping birds
plunges in to my shallow chest
Knowing I must give something
On a day I choose not.

This is a particular form of a poem called a Pantoum. The second and fourth line of each stanza becomes the first and third line of the next stanza. The first and third lines of the first stanza show up again at the end so as not to be left out of the repeating. This poem will frustrate people who have liked my straightforward, story-telling types of poems, and I know at least one person who will throw up his arms and say "What does it MEAN? I don't GET IT!" To the rest of you, I hope you enjoy it - these are fun to write because they force things to happen that wouldn't normally occur, and that's when writing poetry becomes magic for me.

Oh, and the axe in the chest imagery came from a great little story I read in class last night by another student. The main character was going about her dull life, married ten years, and decided on that day to take and axe to her husband. This is my homage to her a little bit.

And how could I forget the snakes! My poor friend Stacey was gardening the other day and came upon a nest of snakes. She is still traumatized.