Saturday, December 01, 2012


I love this word--would like to do more with it, but if I wait until I have time, it will be gone. So here is a brand new first draft poem:


A graveyard of scrap surrounds the museum,
ferruginous boilers, crusted and rough with scale,
dome-shaped, cylindrical, spherical, knobby
with nuts and frozen bolts, thick plates of iron.
Grass, dandelions and daisies sprout between
rusty behemoths, little islands of green.
I peer into the shadows, into portholes
that smell of blood, ashes and brimstone,
then crawl through a long tunnel into the belly
of one of the monsters, curl to sleep
like Jonah resting in the whale.  It is peaceful
here, where the visitors can’t see me,
Muffled coos of sleeping pigeons
soften the sounds of children shouting, the hoots
of trains and traffic, everything dulls
but the magnified echo of my breath.

Mary Stebbins Taitt


Biomouse said...

I am so so soooo happy you joined us this week!! I love this poem and would like to know if you think you might squeeze a teensy more time to be our hostess next week? Thank you again for playing with us.

jo(e) said...

I love the word and the poem!

Mary Stebbins Taitt said...

Thanks Biomouse, thanks jo(e), am literally just back from a poetry workshop in Ashland Ohio, GREAT workshop!!!!

I need to check my calendar, but can probably do it, can't commit until I check.

Mary Stebbins Taitt said...

Ok, i can do it.

Mary Stebbins Taitt said...

Frolic. The new word is frolic. I hope no one else has used it recently; I haven't had time to look.

Kelsey said...

I love this! I think I should stop by more often!