Thursday, September 16, 2010

poem || Sheila E. Murphy

Four Visions of the Gap Year

I.

I fill in the whole
with caveats left
over from
white sun.

When you have a moment
would you teach me
to pay back
this quality of attention?

What I touch
I read
in retro:
watch.

Brace-
let, hand.
Histories
absorbed to recitation.

II.

Who cleans
up after
rain
light?

How does both
differ from
bother?
Do you

moth or
mother, according
to your lean-
to resumé?

What happens
here
happens
repeatedly

III.

It was as if
today had to
shift: occurring

versus,
having occurred.
Enrolling
in a street

curriculum,
bred dia-
tribes.
The wind meant

something.
Touch of the side-
rails made the map
dots real.

IV.

A cartel affords
safe lunges
into future
obvious.

Join versus
not join. Ping
tones ramp
up daisy lanes.

Are you amenable
or just commendable?
I am finding
language finds me.

That I may retire
into addictive
making, that I
might afford the shelter.

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