Poetry |

“Dominion”

Dominion

 

We name the birds and think those are their names

but our throats are helpless when calling flights pass over

and we can’t taste the earth that comes up with the worm in a robin’s beak

nor in the worst moments of our lives can we approach the way an owl sobs.

 

We analyze the sky using charts      one phenomenon at a time

yet when light pierces the clouds like our visions of God we turn into

open mouths   and when that light enters us     no matter how much

we want to keep it     because we do not have the tools     we can never.

 

We wade through undergrowth whose leaves and sticks are our words for them

but the nodules and stitchings on our ankles will always know more about plants

than we do  and we have no idea what to call the way trees dwarf us  nor when

we hold them     how to interpret the patterns their barks leave on our cheeks.

 

We have stories but we cannot parse them  so when we step on a seedling struggling

through a crack we never think of Cain and Abel     nor does the way water

cascades towards us from high and  ancient rock bring Rapunzel to mind

nor when we look at the stars do we remember As it was in the beginning.

 

When will we understand that all our classifications are only attempted dust?

That nothing pinned to a card is true?  That sight and hearing

and taste and our hearts and our brains and the tips of our fingers

are like yellow butterflies?  Reach for them and they are gone.

Contributor
Lola Haskins

Lola Haskins’ most recent collection of poems is Asylum: Improvisations on John Clare (University of Pittsburgh, 2019) She serves as Honorary Chancellor of the Florida State Poets Association. Her awards include the Iowa Poetry Prize, two NEAs, two Florida Book Awards, the Florida’s Eden prize for environmental writing, and the Emily Dickinson prize from Poetry Society of America.

Posted in Poetry

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