20/03/2016

#poem #poetry #amwriting #sketcbook sasquatch

The Choctaw word is forget.
And, like Darwin's heavy brooding brow
it is not easy. When there are pigeons
to boil, and a wife to keep sweet,
how does one forget, seeing what no-one
should see?

The physical pleasure of knocking a tree
or screaming into the dark of night.
Rather ignores, the common link
of iron bars, at the zoo, at the prison,
at the asylum, or at the concentration camp.

Toughened glass, smeared with fingers:
and noses and tongues.
Behind a Gorilla eats an apple
as disinterested of us as the tree that dropped the fruit.
We might play a flute,
but seeing is not connecting.

And your marrow sustains in winter.

The Choctaw word is forget.