Mt. Morris Cento
Jan. 8, 2012
Enough of everything buttoned up, battened down, sensible.
Anything...but my 6am corporate wakeup call
and trying to remember the directions and which exit to take.
Two seconds after the door shuts I've forgotten.
I itch in places my mother told me not to scratch;
so are we self-committed to the cuckoo's nest.
I love how words seem to fly out of a nest in the ribs,
leaving eddies of whirling sand,
the curl of it washing the immaculate shore of her shoulders.
For him there was no bright light;
words of love return to smoke and rise,
chase the Great Bear through sky,
shouting shit to the sky and to each other.
Cathryn Cofell has authored five chapbooks, including Kamikaze Commotion (Parallel Press), and released Lip, a CD of her poems to the music of Obvious Dog. She is found in places like North American Review, Oranges & Sardines and Dirty Napkin, and serves on the advisory board for Verse Wisconsin. More at "http://www.cathryncofell.com/" www.cathryncofell.com.