Laodoke
I dreamt waterbirds and windstorms—
shriek, roar, the image of the world
dismantling itself before our eyes.
Then, alone, I watched my fingertips
fly off as moths, and I fell back into
the nothing that was left of everything.
My body gone, I felt a rising
from within, unalone, we rose
as a great wave to crest but never
crash, never scatter because
there is nothing left to fall against.
1 comment:
How are you writing these poems!?!
Do you consciously think about having your mouth in an O shape? From the speaker's name to the "water"-"storms"-"roar"-"world"-"alone"-"moths" there is an exhalation at the beginning of this poem that perfectly suits its narrative! (That narrative is beautiful and clear; I can't help thinking you found the moths in a dream, where else could you have found them?)
In the third stanza, the undulating N sounds float me along on the ocean you're describing, up to AW sounds and then ending with the hissing, final ST from against, which is not harsh, or, rather is only as harsh as a wave crashing, which draws itself back into itself to crash again.
I have been too jumpy to read poetry well but I love and am amazed by this. This is one of those poems that makes me want to know the secrets behind it; the first question in the post stands.
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