Poem #20

Forest Archive

Archived alphabetically from a,
Boxed and ordered where b
Comes after a and is followed by c,
Documents foldered for posterity.
Each box is the same size – an easy
Form to follow. Copy the motif
Given in rectangles of energy
Holding the papered lives and aches,
In acid-free folders, of writers who’ve died
Just recently or long ago,
Killed by chance or inevitable decay.
Living authors too, their letters
Merging with the manuscripts of women and men
No longer with us, but whose work lives on –
Outlines, drafts, and the books also
Preserved on paper, filed in the archive’s keep.

Quilt this, I thought, follow the cue
Residing in this boxed array
Set out and shelved in neatness.
The template is there, just copy it to a T
Using the form and parchment hues.
Vanity, as it turned out, for the reverie
Would not materialise. The rectangles withdrew,
Exactitude excused itself. Instead
Yearning green crept in to defy my
Zestful plan. And I sewed a fabric forest.



6 thoughts on “Poem #20

  1. Beautiful reflection. I love it when exactitude “excuses” itself (in light of how you’ve put it, that is now one of my favourite excusings!). Lovely to see the green that crept in, too! Glad that it did. 🙂


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