}} But Now |

Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










But Now

something
is after the poem,
something the poem
can’t see—
a growl
from the closet, an animal
made of doubt: maybe
the prowling menace

of History—the rabid maw
about to close
on the poem’s throat.
The poem tries
to scream, but
all we hear
is that light pause
between one stanza

and the next.  The poem
wants to wake up,
but can only run in circles,
gaping at the sky,
clucking silently—like
a conceptual Chicken
Little with her
big eyes buggin’ out.
 
 
 
← Tim Seibles