Tuesday, April 06, 2010

for my neighbor, due in may

Why Pregnant Women Don’t Tip Over
-title of an article in The New York Times

Because a single thought occupies the mind of a traveller,
which at each crossroads reappoints itself.

Because the best tool for balance is bulk, and the high-wire walker
leaning leeward prevents the plunge downwind.

Because a lullabye hums steady in the cogs of the lumbar curve.

Because half a hundred hormones stew in the blood and sinews,
dissolving like salt that holds the dhow afloat.

And also clouds assume oddball shapes; yet their progress proves
smoother than any boat on any lake.

Because balloons bloated with helium hover lamplike; over time,
tired, yes, but dragging their strings loyally, royally.

Because the spine is a stack of boxes storing torpor,
even doses of wax and wane.

Because the hillside hangs on through erosion
and the arrowhead’s exposed unbroken.

Because erect is a synonym for sane, for symmetry,
for world-on-a-string.

Because sex makes a swashbuckler of us all
but there’s an anchor called the fetal load.

And as the Scots say when the cup is full carry it even.

In other words it’s not the cowl that makes the monk but how he bears it.

And even your bachelor aunt will tell you
the flophouse is no place for a lady.


Kass said...

Superb! Especially liked "...the spine is a stack of boxes storing torpor, even doses of wax and wane."

There is so much here. I'm reading it again and again.

Ron. said...

Flophouse indeed.

In fact, if you trip them, they fall.

Pregnant women are funny; I used to know one. She was a riot.

Anonymous said...

wunderbar, Comrade Frau Sarah.


SarahJane said...

"Comrade Frau Sarah" is extremely funny. I think I'll go by that. Are you the person who gave me the poetry book on the night of the apocalypse?

Anonymous said...

Sorry, I don't think so. I lived upstairs. Glasses. Come on, you know who. I just want to be Sonam on the Internet.

SarahJane said...

Dear Upstairs with Glasses,
I think you did give me a poetry book on the night of the apocalype. The inscription says -
"To Sarah,
Carry this book with
you into the future,
Use it as a pillow...
Remember our night
together playing Yahtzee
after the great nightmare.

Sonam said...

Sorry, can't remember. What is the name of the book and how can we get in touch off this blog site? I hail from way north of New Jersey. Go west, young woman, but not to Kansas.

SarahJane said...

You were so right about Kansas, S.
NorthWEST hail, I believe.

The book was an old battered anthology you passed along on one of our likely near-drunk evenings.
My email is
sjanesloat (at) yahoo (dot) com

i really don't know if that hokus pokus works.

lovely to hear from you.

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