June poetry gong: Carolee’s #1


When Jeff Goldblum turns
into a fly on the movie screen,
I am 14 and suffering
my own transformation.
In front of my eyes fragments,
fragments everywhere, dozens
of images that refuse to
become one. Even now,
the world is in pieces.
It’s in pieces, and so
we invent our own excuses,
say, I see three of me
and four of you and
together we are only two.

I fly I fly I fly except when I creep,
creep along window frames
(panes in every house) buzzing with
buzzing with the hope
some of us will make it out alive.


I took some notes for this on the train to NYC early this afternoon, and now that all the kiddos are tucked safely (thankfully!) in their beds (or in the case of my injured oldest son in MY bed), I turned the notes into my first contribution for the gong. I didn’t intend for it to become an extended metaphor. Well, I’m not sure it’s even that. What I mean is, I didn’t mean to stick with the fly image. I had others I wanted to include, but I didn’t manage to work them in. Maybe I’ll graft them onto a revision of this, or maybe they’ll make their way into a different piece.

P.S. “14 and suffering?” I know. Ugh. 🙂 But don’t claim it ain’t so!!


4 thoughts on “June poetry gong: Carolee’s #1

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