#17. Push boat with flow of water
if you want to mend a cloth to
preserve it, you must send a thread
through a tiny hole in a needle
called an eye
if you want to replicate the world
to preserve it, you must send photons
through a tiny hole in a box
called an aperture
if you want to replicate yourself
to preserve it, you must send sperm
through a tiny hole between your legs
called a vagina
when cloth gets old, world breaks
down, body’s gone to wormbait
all that’s left are tiny holes
where light shines through
forming star-pricked sky for
creatures threading needles
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From Ride Backwards on Dragon (Pig Squash Press).
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Kim Goldberg’s 2007 collection, Ride Backwards on Dragon: a poet’s journey through Liuhebafa, was a finalist for the Gerald Lampert Memorial Award. Her collection of poems about homelessness, RED ZONE, has been taught at Vancouver Island University and elsewhere. Visit her online at: http://liuhebafagirl.wordpress.com/
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I like this poem, Kim. From stardust to stardust, worms to worm’s meat, eventually despite the mending.
ah, Kim, worms and stars. Magic.
Love this one, Kim. I’m with you moving through that needle’s eye.
Ah, ain’t this poetry month blog a grand idea! If only we could have it all year long.
DeLIGHTfull poem, Kim!!
Reminds of Leonard Cohen’s song- “there’s a crack that runs through everything/that’s where the light gets in/that’s where the light gets in”…do you know the song? I can’t think of the title right now. Good one. Cheers, Andrew