Saturday, April 20, 2013

20 apr 2013

My Anger Will Ebb

After all
my friend, alone in her house
a half mile from the boat
aflame as if in a Greek tragedy
is alive & well
reunited today with daughters & spouse.

Far away & helpless
as she was close by & helpless
I waited, she waited, so many waited
sure he would be caught
sure she would survive unmarked —
we are all marked.

A boat in a Greek tragedy would be a trireme
three ranks of oars
one above the next above the next
a beak for a prow
better to ram, to pierce
the enemy boat.

The dogs, locked inside all day
burst out of doors in frenzied relief
like the children denied playgrounds
the workers denied work.

Meanwhile I walked up Soquel
jaywalked across Ocean
climbed the Broadway hill
to watch the hybrid rose — orange, yellow, & pink —
bloom careless & sprawling
above the chainlink fence.

Anger is sullen, is pouting
is dismay at the world refusing to cooperate
is armies of men with guns
is war, is death
is a 19-year-old killing his life
with killing — ablaze in a boat.

My grandchild studied my knee to find marks
where the ladybug might have bitten.
In the shop a woman 
held a paper towel for the slug 
to ooze up & onto —
carried it outdoors.

I didn’t want to come here today.
I wanted to stew in anger caused by too long fear.

Yet the sun shines, the bus runs.
I could sit @ the Scotts Valley Peet's
knowing we would read
we would write
fast words on slow paper
we strangers & not quite friends.

1 comment:

  1. what a story, what a poem! (i wondered what was going on, no Way). Save this for a book of like poems. You write many that are specialized personal and fascinating. I also want a photo of that hybrid rose. (I want, I want...sigh)