|
THE WITCH'S FLIP
It’s unnerving
when familiar flips—
and upside down comes knockout
like a fist to sudden glory
As
if a witch were riding
with your eyes
in hers. And you see
trees, but new, and mutant, they have
no shadows left—pure witchery, it is
her giddy brilliance and I reel
with it
I
know now how the sun
is skewed, kicking
away the shade’s dark blots;
and how a single pebble
lives—not sand-embedded,
but rearing guerrilla catapult to
pelt the waves! Who can resist it—or
her—the witchy life? Not me
And
I’m cement—I’m grim;
unsmiling; certainly not
convivial,
but in her eyes, (mine too) I’m seen
as bleached and cheerful
Which I resent.
I mean, what’s happened
to dyspeptic things, can nothing
droop? Even
rejection’s pleasure-positive—
if the witch says yes
Or
nods, saying, no—to take
one flowing instance—
smug blood is out, she pontificates,
pride
dries the vein, we need to make
the red mess sing! And that—
is witch’s insight
So
when she calls this
poem trash
or frigid scribble, the whimpering
of a diminished scribe;
how can I
do anything—but
ease it off the page and wave
goodbye
Jay Chollick is a frequent featured performer at
venues throughout New York City and its environs. His
cycle of poems based on the United States was
published by Soul Fountain in "Five-O: The Stately
Poems" in 2001. |