At lake’s edge, where mud is rich and reeds thin, four splashing boys cleave ankle-deep, arrowed avenues through dense islands of algae. With sunbrowned backs bent to noon, they drive nets through water, in steady crescent sweeps, and slowly scoop up worlds of plankton and scum. Holding their catches skyward, water seeps from sheer fabric of nets and sends shivering ripples as it drips back into the lake, and pleased with the take, they step to the shore in reverent silence, kneel on the bank, offer their loads on the face of a sun-hot stone. The boys grin and squint in the radiant blaze of summer, affirmed in divine child- hood as they watch the world sizzle and squirm. 2003 Poetry, "Between A and B" --Mr. KirkHow long will it take a man
to travel from A to B? A grade school story problem. On paper, it seems so straight. A matter of flat arithmetic. Let’s say he traveled by air. And imagine that while flying something important Popped or some bolt that held him aloft happened to Snap And the whole thing came unwinding down like the secret to a trick. Would the story end there, or perhaps might it begin. The topography of between is the real riddle and as charted as may be, will never give up the ghost. We may cling to prepositions to keep us afloat: above and beneath; over and under; but they too remain unheedingly mute. From up to down is a riddling between a billion times more frightening than B. Let’s get back to the problem. The answer is three hours. Or five. Or nine. But are we anywhere different from where we began? 2003 |
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