In The Shadow of Turning: Throwing Salt
by CAROLYN M. RODGERS
Salt is what
it all becomes.
Salt always did make me crave
sugar. If I could have turned and
looked back, like Lot’s wife,
I never would have.
Turning is for other memories.
Memories are actually seasons
of homeless dreams.
The main event in life is something
we think we can plan, but can’t.
A nest or fishnet of categories. Of hunger.
A need river, running wild in every
imaginable direction.
It would have all been salt, and me,
craving sugar.
Prodigal Objects
by CAROLYN M. RODGERS
when i lose something,
i am all out in the streets
looking for it.
it doesn’t matter if i lost it at home,
or school, or at church.
i think maybe i’ll see it
way ’cross town in impossible places.
department stores, restrooms, hospital
lobbies, telephone booths.
earrings, loves, books, buttons,
notebooks, pens.
i’m looking for them all.
say maybe i lost whatever it is
in california, and here i am in chicago,
2000 miles away, looking for it.
or maybe i lost it in africa and one
day i get a certain feeling and i’m
in chicago and i know i lost it say
400 years ago in africa,
but on this particular day, i just know
i’m going to find it in chicago.
it doesn’t matter what it is.
no it really doesn’t matter what it is,
or where i lost it either.
what matters is the feeling of finding
(there is a law of finding),
what matters is finding on lost days,
and i’m finding that some days
what matters just as much is being found. |
