Reversibility
The earth a cauldron
Of faces, tempests, small floating dust
Inevitable rot cut short by sudden decline
Yet poets once celebrated the grand emotions
Love, joy, good will
The quiet enjoyment of a teakettle
It seemed best to reverse all that
Why should poets sing of happiness?
Give anger, fear, the dread of loss
The freezing paralysis of knowing too much
Oh, it seemed rare and right
To speak of all that swirl
The haunted empty pill bottles
That appeared in recesses of our lives
But the poems of the store and street
The common currency of our coffee cups
All spoke of it: anger, fear, dread of loss
Are emotions reversible?
Is it still possible to write
Of love or joy
Within the container that holds us in?
Rarity is what's needed
If our streets scream and all echo it
Then decadence is the joy of roses in a vase
Copyright 2004 Rich Puchalsky
E-mail: rpuchalsky@worldnet.att.net
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Last modified: August 19, 02004