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LAce Posted Monday, December 9th, 2002
Ode to a Poem I Made in My Head and Forgot
Sabine Boucher

I seem to be the sum of all my parts and still not much all autumn.
But you, heart's pirate - I suspect you are tanning your sea-worn pelt in Turkey
By this point, your plundering eye complete with all the sun's burgundy and amber --
All, from where you stand, dancing to one jangling tune.

You may not remember the asphalt music of the night we met.
I had spoken out of place, said something dumb, and everyone was quiet until you spoke.
An ordinary word, Rabbit, was stuffed into a cannon, lit by a gathering fuse
That no one else heard. I smiled knowingly, and eventually, the others returned
To the party. When we touched it was as if the roadside kudzu of yesteryear opened up,
The bejeweled loam was revealed, the teeming fire ants hummed.

I blame only Indian Summer for taking you away. I'll go back to the library eventually,
You'll hit the high seas again. You deserve your pilfered reveries, and if not for a faint,
Dark scent I could let you be. But it lingers in crowds just ahead of me --
I haunt its dank streets, a whore to its trail.

Comments [post a comment]

Posted by Jose Thoits [ foitz@hotmail.com ] on Wednesday, December 11th, 2002 at 6:04 PM
Beautifully written poem, although I must admit it took 5 readings before I was able to fully grasp the semantic coherence, subtle symmetry and uniquely heartwarming tones of this piece. Having said that, I must admit that I've never actually met a Turkish pirate and can therefore not vouch for its veracity.

Posted by Josh Kinser on Saturday, December 14th, 2002 at 12:23 PM
I know exactly what you mean. You just said everything I was thinking but better. I think my favorite lines are ".....asphalt music..." "I blame only Indian Summer for taking you away." For God's sake keep on writing, some of us feel better after your words.

Posted by Eric Lott on Sunday, December 15th, 2002 at 2:26 AM
The first line is genius. All I can say is I'm fucking jealous of the pirate.



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