Banging Cabinets
I had almost forgotten
how quickly change can happen.
The day may appear almost
calm in the morning. But then,
without warning,
a cabinet door in the kitchen
bangs shut,
just one, at first . . . just one.
Fight, flight, freeze.
Wait for the inevitable echo
to reach the den.
Another door bangs shut. Then,
in rapid succession,
three or four more
pop like popcorn,
a burst of gunfire.
Maybe, one last bang for luck.
Morning songbirds
turn to a murder of crows,
an unkindness of raven, in a flip
of a switch, without warning.
It might be too late.
-
Naming My Friends
when I die,
you will recognize me by my tattoo.
—Zeina Hashem Beck
I am listening to Pentatonix
and Walk Off the Earth on YouTube
when a video of your
recitation of “Naming Things”
queues up next. And that poem
carries me like a refugee on its back,
packed in a duffel bag, rucksack, kit bag
with all its worldly belongings.
We are on the lam,
running from our past.
I carry my home with me,
or it might be carelessly dragged
in the dirt behind me.
I have been naming my friends—
loneliness, darkness, regret.
And I fear I will never return
to the city where I was born. The walls
have crumbled like Jenga,
and we are suddenly nomads again.
I have named myself “goodbye.”
And the bombs have fallen,
strafing our memories, our recollections,
our nostalgia. I survive because
I carry my whole life with me
in this rucksack on my back.
-
Dear Poet
I want to ask you about technique
and your reasons for doing one thing one way
as opposed to some other. Should I
do it that way too? Is there a method?
Could I borrow your mindset
or, maybe, some madness?
Where should one line break?
Should I combine multiple lines to make one very long line? Should I
chop them
into tiny phrases
or drop them
one
word
for
each
line
on the page?
It is important to know these things:
technique and reason.
But which
is more important?
When should I indent?
Or should I?
Or should I
repeat the last line?
-
"Banging Cabinets," "Naming My Friends," and "Dear Poet" each won 1st place in their respective contest categories in the Poetry Society of Texas's 2021 Contests and are published in the Society's 2022 A Book of the Year.
Eric
