Monday, November 11, 2013

Tuesday Poem: Poem in Absentia

Like ants seeking a scent trail to food,
all afternoon I sought ingress
to a poem, and came up blank.
No sweetness on my page.

As an army bride and far from home
in Atlanta, my mother told how
she left a sugar bowl out overnight,
and in the morning a black band of ants
up the table leg and into the bowl,
her sweet coffee stirrings
exiting, grain by grain.

I think my poem is in that sugar bowl
and the ants are marching away
with the words, two by two, hurrah.
Hefting nouns and verbs
with mandibles, a syntactic caravan
intent on deconstructing stanzas.
This points to the poem being written
already, of course, otherwise
how could ants carry away
what I haven’t yet imagined?

Or is it some future poem
visible only through the many-lensed
ant-eyes on the many ants
 jamming up the sugar bowl?

No one can answer this.

What I know is that the poem
refuses to show itself,
and whether it exists now
or in some distant bowl
brimming with hymenoptera
is a conundrum not to be unpuzzled.

And I fear that even this poem
is being carted off the page
as I type, un-becoming,
a disappearance of syllables a
nd phonemes, rendering
itself inutterable in this line,
and the next —

© T. Clear

More Tuesday Poems can be found here.


  1. That's a lot of fun T...guess that's what happens when you write edible poetry.:-)

  2. It's still here, T.

    I'm enjoying the ant theme.

    L, C x