Poem By Lori Boulard
Now I’ve really done it.
I’ve flayed myself open like roast poultry
For all to see,
With not even the wishbone left for my efforts.
Wandering haplessly down the path of myself,
Something hooked my heart,
Reached in to grab my spine,
And took hold like cholera,
And now lies content rattling my bones
And lighting my flesh afire
With little or no advanced notice whatsoever.
In a vain attempt to drown out the echoes
Of pain, pleasure and poetry,
I plunged myself headfirst into reality,
Only to find myself surrounded
To the point of vertigo
With life, death and leftovers.
At long last, upon surrendering
To the endless stream of subject matter
Which torments me,
I have stopped struggling to swim
And have learned to enjoy the ride when tide is high,
Hold my breath when it gets rough,
And thoroughly appreciate the feeling
of floating against its weight
When all is calm.
So for those who stand on ocean’s edge,
Unsure and trusting your life to that
Child-sized rubber bubble float,
I say one thing:
Come on in
The water’s fine.