Perhaps T.S.Eliot, employed at Lloyd’s of London for eight years, was lamenting the influx of income tax forms in his famous poem “The Waste Land”. In any case, we now have National Poetry month to turn Eliot’s cruel adage on its head. In Canada and America there are going to be contests and activities galore. If you’re interested in writing a poem everyday to document your take on various perspectives of the month, check out Poetic Asides, where the resident poet, Robert Lee Brewer, provides a prompt everyday as an entryway into a poem. I’m taking a break from my daily twitter poems to participate. Here’s my effort for today, which is based on the prompt of a title: Partly ______:
Partly Blanked Out
Something funny he said when they met fifty years ago. Something an ant would use as a microscope. Something soft in his voice she responded to. Something promised under the moon at its apogee. Something screamed in a delivery room for the first time. Something felt in five fingers around one. Something placed between their bed and their window. Something passed so fast like a river. Something unwrapped in seconds for a ten-year-old. Something screamed in delivery of a promise. Something given within the crush of an embrace. Something forgotten like a continent fallen off a map. Something worn in memory of retirement. Something taken in the crush of voices. Something recommended by the doctor to stave off something. Something written down among many things written down. Something funny he says about the moon apropos of nothing. Something soft in his voice. Something she cries.