In a room where I had already been,
I used a dictionary of words I already knew,
To help me write poems backwards.
When my hair broke the scissors,
I set fire to my shoes.
The smoke spoke only Spanish and wore a red shawl--
Why I was surprised by this is a riddle for a lunatic.
In the stream, down the hill,
The rocks are black and slippery, like whales' backs.
I am dancing across them barefoot when my heart starts again like a Nantucket sleigh ride--
I laugh, a thawing bell, in the moment that I realize
How careless real love is,
And that I might fall.
A Nantucket sleigh ride was when New England sailors and their boat were pulled along by a harpooned whale.
This is a poem about the end of my marriage, a decade ago.
For One Shot Wednesday. Happy one year!