Hi! This year (2023), I’m continuing my quest to share a poem on my blog and podcast and read it aloud. It’s all a part of my quest to be brave and apparently the things that I’m scared about still include:
- My spoken voice
- My raw poems.
Thanks for being here with me and cheering me on, and I hope that you can become braver this year, too!
For Anne & Maxine
Why is it that the dead
Never listen to my pillow talk?
I am tired, but can’t sleep
Again and again and again.
You snore next to me
And occasionally twitch
As the dog snuggles in between us,
Released from her crate
Because she cries so much.
Again and again and again,
Why is that my whines
Never wake anyone up?
Not even myself.
Holes and Vettes Bar Harbor. Maine. 2022. A baseball field. Corvettes line up in rows, engines still For once and owners preening From their folding chairs, legs poking Into the same grass that supports Life Flight helicopters in emergencies And soccer cleats. This earth withstands so much. It’s a yearly gathering that’s paused two years Thanks to global disease, but now the drivers Are all maskless and showing off Their cars to locals who wander Between the lines, marveling. “I will never be rich enough To own one,” says a man in a black t-shirt to a guy with a firebird red model. “I thought that too,” The guy says. “Work hard. You’ll get there.” The first man moves to run A finger across the car’s hood. The owner flinches like it’s some kind of assault. “Try hard,” he repeats. “You’ll get there." We all try hard To get there, Inventing monologues Of worth based on materialism, Who owns what, how shiny Our skins are, our hair, our cars, Houses. We pretend like any of this Fills up the holes we dig inside ourselves, Inside the ozone, inside the earth. Darkening faces, Double visions. Horror. The Vettes represent adventure And freedom. Not being beholden Despite the car loans required, The interest rates. The American Debt. “There are eight Generations of car here,” Says an organizer With a yellow sunhat Perched on her head. “This is the car of dreams.” American Dreams. And that’s the thing. Have you ever hit your head On a poem or a wall Or something else hard And realized that your dreams Aren’t actually yours? Have you ever felt like you’re falling Though you are standing still on a field Surrounded by excess and shiny paint Jobs and pride, merciless, assaulting, And begged for stable ground Before realizing you’re just making holes, too. Maybe the holes are in a ball field, Or in the Earth or the ozone Or maybe—just maybe—in your own damn heart.
Hey, thanks for listening to Carrie Does Poems.
The music you hear is made available through the creative commons and it’s a bit of a shortened track from the fantastic Eric Van der Westen and the track is called “A Feather” and off the album The Crown Lobster Trilogy.
