A Poem
Here is a nature poem I wrote for my Craft of Writing 2 class.
The Baptism
I took a walk down to the creek
Brown and dirty-
Like my hair.
Over a log my tired feet drag
across the length of my
rotted friend.
Between the trees
A shopping cart lays
On its side-long forgotten-a wheel spinning lonely
in the breeze.
Sunbeams bounce off his metal spokes
Harsh rays-like hat pins-stab at my eyes.
So I pull my jacket tight over my face-a hooded monk
of sorts-
By smell and touch and taste I move
toward the cardboard raft left on the bank.
I stop and pick up a purple flower
And rip the head off with my teeth
A last bitter taste of earth
and a reminder that even the most beautiful things
can still be rotten at the core.
I swallow every last petal
before moving the raft into the water
I dip my naked toes in
Followed by the rest of me
My blue skirt flares out
mixing with mud and oil and the stench of
skunk cabbage.
One more intake of breath---sharp and early-spring
cold---then floating
floating
floating.
Green eyes focused on the murk above.
Ears hearing the muffled warnings of crows.
Lungs not willing to give up
Pulsing angry in my chest
Spurting out of water.
I have failed
failed
failed.
I rub my eyes
Drain my ears
Spit out the poison in my chest.
Floating away is not nearly as
Glamorous
as I thought it'd be.
So I remove myself
from the creek
from the situation.
Take one last look at the raft
flailing at the bottom of the murk
the log and the shopping cart-goodbye friends.
This time I pick up a purple flower
and tuck it tight in my palm.
A reminder that even the most beautiful things
can still be broken.
The Baptism
I took a walk down to the creek
Brown and dirty-
Like my hair.
Over a log my tired feet drag
across the length of my
rotted friend.
Between the trees
A shopping cart lays
On its side-long forgotten-a wheel spinning lonely
in the breeze.
Sunbeams bounce off his metal spokes
Harsh rays-like hat pins-stab at my eyes.
So I pull my jacket tight over my face-a hooded monk
of sorts-
By smell and touch and taste I move
toward the cardboard raft left on the bank.
I stop and pick up a purple flower
And rip the head off with my teeth
A last bitter taste of earth
and a reminder that even the most beautiful things
can still be rotten at the core.
I swallow every last petal
before moving the raft into the water
I dip my naked toes in
Followed by the rest of me
My blue skirt flares out
mixing with mud and oil and the stench of
skunk cabbage.
One more intake of breath---sharp and early-spring
cold---then floating
floating
floating.
Green eyes focused on the murk above.
Ears hearing the muffled warnings of crows.
Lungs not willing to give up
Pulsing angry in my chest
Spurting out of water.
I have failed
failed
failed.
I rub my eyes
Drain my ears
Spit out the poison in my chest.
Floating away is not nearly as
Glamorous
as I thought it'd be.
So I remove myself
from the creek
from the situation.
Take one last look at the raft
flailing at the bottom of the murk
the log and the shopping cart-goodbye friends.
This time I pick up a purple flower
and tuck it tight in my palm.
A reminder that even the most beautiful things
can still be broken.