There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town: Progressive Poem, Line 23

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Progressive Poem, Line 23

Today's poet is messing with the format! I love what she's done with the Progressive Poem. I can't wait to see how it all works out in the end.

She lives without a net,
walking along the alluvium of the delta.
Shoes swing over her shoulder,
on her bare feet stick
jeweled flecks of dark mica.
Hands faster than fish swing
at the ends of bare brown arms.
Her hair flows,

snows

in wild wind

as she digs
in the indigo varnished handbag,
pulls out her grandmother’s oval
cuffed bracelet,  strokes the turquoise stones, and steps
through the curved doorway.

Tripping

her

tail

she

slips

hair first
down
the
slide…
splash!
She glides past glossy water
hyacinth to shimmer with a school of shad,
listens to the ibises
roosting in the trees
of the cypress swamp

an echo

of Grandmother’s words, still fresh
in her windswept memory;

“Born from the oyster,

expect the pearl.

Reach for the rainbow

reflection on the smallest dewdrop.”

The surface glistens, a shadow

slips

above her head, a paddle

dips

she reaches, seizes. She’s electric energy
and turquoise eyes.
Lifted high, she gulps strange air – stares
clearly into  Green pirogue, crawfish trap, startled
fisherman with turquoise eyes, twins
of her own, riveted on her wrist–
She’s swifter than a dolphin,

slipping away,

leaving him only

a handful

of memories

of his own

grandmother’s counsel:

“Watch for her.

You’ll have but one chance

to  determine—

to decide. Garner wisdom from the water

and from the pearl

of the past.”

In a quicksilver flash,
an arc of resolution, he

leaps

into the shimmering water
where hidden sentries restrain
any pursuit and the bitter taste
of impulse rushes
into his lungs.
Her flipper flutters his weathered toes
– Pearl’s signal –
Stop struggling.
The Sentinels will escort you