poem – clarity

14 Aug

clarity

after a 72 hour crunk
i turned orange

for the first time


and not the orange
of a Halloween Jack-O-Lantern
depicted on thin cardboard
and taped to a wall
as decoration
for a children’s
stay-at-home-
trick-or-treat-
is-satanic-
parents-insecure-
party

but

the orange of fire
changing in
shade
and tone
shape and intensity
moving alive
on my skin

unmowed grass
out front
became
dark green seaweed
thick moving
flowing serene
and i
a Garibaldi
swimming peaceful
Garibaldi_fish_closeup
a black sky
– fresh asphalt
an inverted street –
sticks to my finger
as i cut swirls
and trace smiley faces

buzzards spin lazy
around a porch light
a fiddle sings from across the street
the potatoes are dead
she cries
the crops all gone
mother weeps
softly
cooks thin soup
of tall grass and leeks
in a gray pot
father tugs
at a strand
of thinning hair
my seven sisters
and i
board
a pauper’s trawler
in Dublin harbor
conscripted by
our English landlord

and the sea passes
beneath
my father’s old boots
as we pass lady liberty
and just touch
the pursing lips
of

America
>condron.us(c) jck hnry heavy industries | toad suck | ca | 2009

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