Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Chemotherapy (Poem of the Day 2)

The decomposing squirrel in the yard,
a plump sack. That night
I bled for hours, like a dumb animal.
The evening news: Mother’s doing fine today.
By Wednesday, I could smell the body from the porch.
I couldn’t make myself not look.
First the flies on its brown eyes,
then the mice in its tapering ribs.
Soon it looked like the remains of a fish,
a furry scalp, a plush dead thing.
I drank lemonade and gin in the shade
as the neighbor’s cat stalked the bossy blue jays.
(Mothers, in this case.)
They kept up the noise for hours.
Last night it was just a skeleton,
light enough to be lifted by the wind.

by Megan O´Rourke


Anonymous said...

this one is good too... pa!


And the days are not full enough
and the nights are not full enough
and life slips by like a field mouse
not shaking the grass


Coffee Tambourine said...

Yes, I think it´s a short, clear and a bit tragic/dark poem. And the bleak headline reminds me another good poem by a friend poet, called The Visit. Ah, and I like Ezra Pound, too!

Anonymous said...

This one is not so dark...pa!


How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside—

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown—
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

R.L. Stevenson

Coffee Tambourine said...

A pleasure to see anything from Robert Louis Stevenson... a good poem. Thanks.