Poetry: October 2007 Archives

This is a sestina. Six words repeated throughout six stanzas, capped by an envoi of three lines that uses all six words. The order of the words changes according to a set pattern throughout the stanzas. It's by far the most difficult form of poetry I've had to write this semester. This is rough and repetitious. Which is why I'm not a poet.

At an age when they’re just eyes,
Sucking up the world; at once following
The dog through the house and crashing
Into a pile of left-out toys. They keep
Your attention from wandering, the better
To appreciate them in that vaporous moment.

I can’t say I’ve ever overlooked those moments.
The glow in their eyes when they sit,
Head resting on my chest, wanting better
Expressions while reading a book; following
The words with my finger; keeping time
With the rhyme when the dodgeits crash.

The on/off switch is broken. They crash
Into sleep the moment they lie (or are laid)
Down. But they keep playing in dreams.
Excitement in sleep flutters their eyelids.
Mom follows the trail of dolls and clothes
Through the house. What could be better?

Some say it’s better to pretend they don’t exist.
That the stock market could crash and
Put us out of work. We could follow our dreams
And at the moment we reach them, fail.
The eyelids still flutter and the child
Keeps dreaming and so do we.

To have and to hold. To keep and to cherish.
We once said no better words to each other.
Eyes locked together as we ourselves would be.
The stock market did crash and our stomachs
Stayed empty. At the moment we reached for
Our dreams to follow them, they were ghosts.

To follow our dreams so our children can dream
Unfettered and in safety. To keep and to cherish
Until that moment when we realize that it’s
Not a better place for us that we make,
But for them. The crashing and noise,
The eyes closed in sleep. The dreams, ghosts.

My eyes follow the child through the room.
She crashes over toys. Again. I keep picking
Them up. A better moment, though ghostly, doesn’t exist.