—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
THERE’S TROUBLE WITH THE LINK
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
Something
You said
Has made me think.
What was it you said
Before
Our call
Had dropped?
Muted, though the voices were,
Something,
I thought I heard,
Brought me to a brink,
Worried from imprecision.
What had you adopted
As your mission?
Was it to save your soul
Or someone else’s?
Or merely to be gentle
And inoffensive,
Like a tiny mountain-flower
Pushing up through pebbles
Between boulders?
What weight were you willing
To carry on your shoulders?
Did you ever actively decide
Which woman
With whom you would abide
Or just let puzzle-pieces
Fall into place
To form a random picture
Of a landslide
Into green pasture?
The message that
You meant to send
Remains with me
Until the end
Although you never sent it.
That’s what I think.
I think that I must have heard you
More clearly
Than you meant to send,
Since there was some trouble
With the link.
_____________________
—Medusa, with many thanks to Joe Nolan for today’s poem and photo!
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
Something
You said
Has made me think.
What was it you said
Before
Our call
Had dropped?
Muted, though the voices were,
Something,
I thought I heard,
Brought me to a brink,
Worried from imprecision.
What had you adopted
As your mission?
Was it to save your soul
Or someone else’s?
Or merely to be gentle
And inoffensive,
Like a tiny mountain-flower
Pushing up through pebbles
Between boulders?
What weight were you willing
To carry on your shoulders?
Did you ever actively decide
Which woman
With whom you would abide
Or just let puzzle-pieces
Fall into place
To form a random picture
Of a landslide
Into green pasture?
The message that
You meant to send
Remains with me
Until the end
Although you never sent it.
That’s what I think.
I think that I must have heard you
More clearly
Than you meant to send,
Since there was some trouble
With the link.
_____________________
—Medusa, with many thanks to Joe Nolan for today’s poem and photo!
—Public Domain Photo
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!