Proun (first)

by | Oct 23, 2013 | Poetry

Proun (first)

1.

You seek a mobile home in him, yet space rises before you; you linger in the rift.

A patriarch pulls down the truck bed.

A house with rock wall beside the lake distracts the beads.

You look through glass and see nothing shorter.

Boundaries contrast what in the ru(i)n, thin delicate lines, narrow enough to act

as string?

House the song, dissonance mitigated, certain things kept away.

You don’t have to bridge the distance. What falls from the hands.

 

2.

Chord and boundary might be said to complement one another.

Then they’re Alaska.

The girl, regressed, stands on bow, silences the glacier.

 

3.

Hurricane remainders blow down makeshift beds.

Cats manifest a disheveled electric.

Tarps, plastic bags, branches—separated but free.

You understand the contradiction by watching wind whip across the land, then turn your back to the window.

 

Note: “Proun (first)” appeared in Dusie’s Tuesday Poem series, guest edited by Rob McLennan.

 

Photo By: wolfgangfoto

About The Author

Deborah Poe

Deborah Poe is the author of the poetry collections the last will be stone, too (Stockport Flats), Elements (Stockport Flats), and Our Parenthetical Ontology(CustomWords), as well as a novella in verse, Hélène(Furniture Press). She has published several chapbooks, most recently Keep (above/ground press), and also co-edited Between Worlds: An Anthology of Contemporary Fiction and Criticism (Peter Lang). Deborah is assistant professor of English at Pace University, Pleasantville, where she teaches creative writing and literature and curates the annual Handmade/Homemade Exhibit and the Vox Creative Arts Series. For more information, please visit her website.