The hoarding is over now
we run naked gleeful
into the sun.
My grandson cries, “Nobody doesn’t love
me,” and I feel the outcast energy
rising ancestral tide of shame-tinged blame
and it’s a game we play with passionate
abandon: can you tune in, emote so
deep a doggy comes to sniff and lick in
sweet compassion? Sendings so true, alive
imaginations limitless. We find
when duress fills our sails, we flee across
the teeming ocean, no time to ponder
why there’s no rhyme today perhaps divine
intervention or an armor-shined knight
will play at slaying dragons—we can’t wait
throw down our Vorpal swords, befriend peril
I look up every weighted word until
in our wild power we must invent new
Soundcloud recording here.
Inspired by: Sails, Ponder, Duress, Divine the Stream of Saturday Consciousness prompt to use a word I have to look up (I look up nearly every word before allowing it into a poem, feeling into the weight of etymology) and the OctPoWriMo Day 17 prompt my wild rhythm.