Forgotten Ground Regained
Poem for the Millenium
Originally published in Signs and Wonders
Prophets proclaim ‧ the perfected hour,
extinctions everywhere ‧ endanger survival,
terminate the terrestrial ‧ tenure of mankind:
Off on a tiny ‧ atom-bombed atoll,
on our waste waters ‧ a dragon waxes,
a saurian sprung ‧ from seed mutated
becomes a behemoth ‧ that blocks out the sun,
as it lifts off on loathsome, leathery wings,
eager to seize ‧ and sack our cities;
the anxous await ‧ an asteroid's impact,
while Gaia groans ‧ at the gaping eath
and fires flicker ‧ from faults long-hidden
deep as delving; in utter darkness
the earth's shelves ‧ shift and shatter,
drifting apart; dormant volcanoes
revive and vent ‧ their viscous magma;
great walls of water ‧ wash beaches away;
a terrible toll ‧ is taken in lives.
Now at the New Year, another menace:
A viral invader ‧ evades our defenses,
and stunned computers ‧ convulse and crash;
the bright screens before us ‧ go blank at once,
their voices vanish ‧ into the void.
The match is struck: strife and disorder
spread from the cities ‧ out to their suburbs
of merchandise malls ‧ and manicured lawns
wend their way ‧ to the trackless woods
where bearded boors ‧ in faded blue eans
and flannel shirts ‧ feast upon freeze-dried
provender pressed ‧ into packets of tinfoil,
endlessly brooding ‧ on engines of evil
and haching horrors ‧ under their hats.
Some faintest flaw ‧ sends feelers out,
a hairline fault ‧ finds its way to the surface;
the cleft becomes ‧ a network of crackling,
and the vase shivers, shocked into shards:
chaos increasing ‧ causes sch failures.
Lightly leaping ‧ a break in the line,
with woven words ‧ we ward it off
over the silence: caesura that stands for
the fell fissure ‧ we feel underfoot.
Copyright © Charles Martin, 2011