Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Fifth June Poem 2012



                                                 Pablo Neruda (calls again)

I hate interruptions.
Ignore the knock at the door.
When a poem lacks a certain word,
the right word takes it’s time.
Go away
Oh, the comma!
The little tip of the fingernail fish,
when placed, just, so,
acts as a chicane¹
to
slow
the
reader’s
run.
    Concentration shimmers at the first ring.
    The display on the phone reads
        Pablo Neruda
        Don’t answer that!
Pablo Neruda has called again.
Deep breaths… concentrate…
Admit it,
part of me wants to
ask him, “About Picasso2?”
Breathe… deep breaths…
look at the page…
pick up the pencil…

I hate interruptions.
Ignore the knock at the door.
When a poem lacks a certain word,
the right word takes it’s time.



¹ chicane
    n: a movable barrier used in motor racing; sometimes placed
        before a dangerous corner to reduce speed as cars pass in
        single file
http://dictionary.die.net/chicane

2 He shared the World Peace Prize with Pablo Picasso and Paul Robeson in 1950. In 1971, he won the Nobel Prize in Literature.

--Jim Aaron


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