CLAUSTROPHOBIA IN CHECHEM-HA
—Lynn M. Hansen, Modesto
My fear is of no concern to the Fer-de-Lance
the bat, the arachnid, Mayan pottery or the dead.
This cave is home, hidden by green vines
bathed in filtered rainforest light.
Thin tongues flick out in the darkness
sensing warm prey. Winged mice navigate,
use echoes from high pitched screams to hunt.
Long tactile legs of whip scorpions extend
over rocky walls, searching for insects.
Silent pottery sits on shallow ledges,
above ancestral bones lying near
altar for Mayan sacred ceremonies.
I stand frozen in the darkness,
paralyzed by fear of small spaces.
Tiny drops of water carry cargo of minerals,
form stalactites, stalagmites, narrow corridors
that do not block the flow of cool moist air;
snakes, bats, arthropods, spelunkers
enjoy this underground labyrinth.
I cannot breathe;
someone is standing on my chest.
____________________
Somehow, Lynn knew I was looking for a bat poem to further my grieving of the impact the current mosquito removal will have on the environment. Thanks, Lynn!
And Joyce Odam has been archiving Medusa, printing out each and every posting and putting it into a fancy white binder. O Joyce, thank you—for that and for passing on this wonderful Amy Lowell poem:
CARREFOUR
—Amy Lowell
O you,
Who came upon me once
Stretched under apple-trees just after bathing,
Why did you not strangle me before speaking
Rather than fill me with the wild white honey of your words
And then leave me to the mercy
Of the forest bees.
____________________
Don't forget Brad Buchanan's reading tonight at HQ (25th & R, Sac.), 7:30pm.
And today begins the type-a-thon that is Snake 7; if you haven't sent anything in yet, do it NOW!
—Medusa (who awaits the wild white honey of your words...)
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets.