Where the Heart Isn’t
Day ends with the cicada’s (ceaseless) rattle.
Dusk begins, signaled by the flap of moths
(up from the blades) and bats. Three crows
fly and caw across the sky, staggered.
(I do not think about death.) A white kitten
(almost cat) stalks daddy long legs, centipedes
and gnats. (I do not wonder if I could live
with one less leg or wing.) A male cardinal
sits at the top of the cherry and sings his tiny
heart out. (Mine! Mine! Mine! Or: Night
is coming! perhaps.) A contrail drifts lows
like a tornado chopped in half. (Where
did you fly to? Why did you go? I never
asked.) Night comes on so suddenly,
(all green goes black) that I find myself
sitting in the starless dark, the house glowering
unlit behind me like a stranger who wants
to buy me a drink. (Home; where the heart isn’t.)
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7 comments:
A white kitten
(almost cat) stalks daddy long legs, centipedes
and gnats. (I do not wonder if I could live with one less leg or wing.) -- Perfect!
love this, laurel, esp that ending about starless night.
hey, good one. the parentheticals work really well here. and almost the opposite, maybe, of what would be expected.
might consider dropping the last one, though. maybe. i guess i'm not so sure that i like seeing the title echoed there.
--D
I was going to comment about maybe dropping the last line, and then I see that David has already made that comment. So, er, what he said.
Nice poem, I especially like the ending. I disagree with a couple of the other comments, I think the last line "Home, where the heart isn't" works fine.
"...the house glowering
unlit behind me like a stranger who wants
to by me a drink. (Home, where the heart isn't.)"
I love that.
Maybe remove "home" from the title, so there is something unexpected to the last line...
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