by Devon E Mattys
You were different
when you came back from Panama.
Laid-back, gentle, breathing--
less frenetic than when you left.
Less harried. Less frantic.
Younger, perhaps, or more resigned to older age.
Gentle wisdom, honest awe.
"I've got a poem in me
about Panama," I said.
You nodded, sighed: "It's paperclips and bobbypins."
I think of Kerouac's lampdust
and all the simplest inventions
we take for granted.
It's the littlest things that change us
the most. (Sneaking in, each overtakes us.)
Mothers who don't end up dying.
And I consider:
maybe it wasn't you
who came back from Panama.
Author's Note: mms
Posted on 03/01/2011
Copyright © 2021 Devon E Mattys
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Julie Adams on 03/02/11 at 03:43 AM|
I love the development in this piece, the arc in this poem bows majestically, like a humble crescent moon before the dawn, and it is wonderful to behold. I love the stitch-work you've done between ideas, sounds, and thought tracks. Thank you for sharing this one :) peace, jewels