Monday, November 16, 2009

The Mystery of Water

It should be no challenge for a writer to fill a page - should be able to fill a page writing about filling a page. And a page is what the editor of the Funrunner needed, facing a lean content one month. Her request for a page arrived. I thought about it and remembered some images of running I'd stored away. A poem seemed a good idea. Since I already had an article scheduled in the issue, and to avoid my byline appearing twice that month, I wrote it under a pseudonym. From the Funrunner, May 2006.
The Mystery of Water

Everybody was waiting for me to die
I kept falling asleep, then waking up
It was trying all around

I arose from the dream
And bolted out the door
Running, running, running

Green plastic penguin
Fat with water
Flaps its arms
Fingertips shooting jets
Swirling, flapping, swirling
Little girl squealing, runs away
From the cold sprinkle
Comes back dancing barefoot
Daring the water
The mystery of water

Rusty circle on the road
Marks the dog’s end
Used to chase me
Belligerent little wiener
Screaming invectives
Loudmouth: “Don’t come back!”
Belligerent little wiener
Rusty stain on the fog line

Bulldozer scraping bushes away
He won’t wave
But I know the smell better than he
Anybody would know sassafras
Who does he think he is?

Storefront window in the town
Full of glaze and curved buildings
White bearded ghost flashing by
I taste salt on my lips

--Jargo Fotcher

1 comment:

  1. Your prose is so beautiful that I should have known you were a poet also. Nice work.