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When Liz suggested reviving the dormant Poetry 7 Collaborative by writing pantoums around a common line, I said: "I'm in."
Then I went to look up a pantoum.
Oh.
Hmmm.
Writing this was like turning myself inside out.
The best part? Getting to read all my poetry sisters' beautiful efforts, which Laura Salas has collected here for Poetry Friday.
A Pantoum
I’ve got better things to do than survive
Like bread, I’m buttered to the edge
Slathered in riches, I’ve
congealed, a manicured hedge
Like bread, I’m buttered to the edge
I roll my socks in pairs; nothing should be
congealed; a manicured hedge
bitten back to nubs; still---wood, tree.
I roll my socks; in pairs, nothing should be
alone in the dark; I reach for matches
bitten back to nubs; still! Wood! Tree!
I call out names, stick knives in latches
Alone, in the dark, I reach for matches
made in heaven; thus, a poem is braced, stave by stave
I call out! Names stick knives in latches;
Turning wood is soft as butter on the lathe
Made in heaven---thus, a poem is! Braced, stave by stave,
Slathered in riches, I’ve
turned. Wood is soft as butter. On the lathe,
I've got better things to do than survive.
----Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
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