Today's prompt: A poem in the shape of a poem...
I choose:
Power by Adrienne Rich
Living in the earth-deposits of our history
Today a backhoe divulged out of a crumbling flank of earth
one bottle amber perfect a hundred-year-old
cure for fever or melancholy a tonic
for living on this earth in the winters of this climate.
Today I was reading about Marie Curie:
she must have known she suffered from radiation sickness
her body bombarded for years by the element
she had purified
It seems she denied to the end
the source of the cataracts on her eyes
the cracked and suppurating skin of her finger-ends
till she could no longer hold a test-tube or a pencil
She died a famous woman denying
her wounds
denying
her wounds came from the same source as her power.
And mine:
Progression
Longing for simpler means to track the spells
Time ticks backwards until it doesn't anymore
On the face of the clock numbers fall away
catapulting digits into empty space
formulating new methods of passing the years
Timepieces no longer have meaning
shedding the semblance of needing to know the "when"
holding fast yet holding out
symbols fade away
into a far off meaningless mingling
to emerge another day
taunting, teasing, tormenting and at the same time
tantalizing in anguish
Seeing the future destroying the
here and now
destroying
hour after precious hour as the countdown begins
-Lisa
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