This Dark Morning
This dark morning, I’ve lost a poem on my
hard drive and can’t seem to find it.
I stare at my monitor until begins to look like
an outdoor movie screen complete with
silhouettes of cars at the bottom. The cars
are inhalers, sprays, and pill bottles
I use everyday not cars, of course.
I begin to wish my daughter when she
was six was here to beat back these medicine
shadows as she did alligators at the arcade
As the gators increased the pace of their
attack she was unflappable and showed
determination beyond her years.
Every hit caused a bell to ring: bam – bing,
bam bam – bing bing.
What did I call that poem?
Where did I file it?
What was it about?
Who did I write it for?
This dark morning, I’ve lost a poem.
FG December 9, 2013
All rights reserved by the author Forrest Greenwood.
Analysis: In trying to remember where he filed a poem, the writer remembers his daughter when she was six beating back alligators at the arcade – this memory is a poem by itself. What connections, if any, would you make between hard drive and determination, medicine bottles as cars, outdoor movies and computer screen, dark morning and writing poetry, and the bam – bing sounds? [This if I were to play English teacher. Poems are jumping off points.]