The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 8/2/08

[BlueIris]

"At Gettysburg"

The one I love stands at the edge
of a wheatfield, wearing
a blue cap, holding
a plastic musket in his hands. The one I love does a goofy

dance at Devil's Den. Mans a cannon. Waves
at me from a hill. He

dips his foot into Bloody Run. The sepia
dream of his dead body
is pulled by the water
over the rocks. And I

am the shadow of a stranger taking
his picture, laid
out like so much black
drapery on the pavement. Is there

some better explanation? Was there

some other mossy, meandering
path we might have taken

to this place through time and space? Why

is it that where my heart
should be, there's a small
bright horse instead? While I
was simply standing
over there by a stone, waiting, did an old
woman run her bony
hand through my hair, and leave
this gray ribbon there? The one

I love leans up against a fence, and then
pretends to be shot. He

opens his eyes
wide and grabs his chest, stumbles
backward, falls
gracefully into the grass, where he lies
for a long time holding the sun in his arms. I take

another picture there. The worms

beneath him make
the burden of the earth light enough to bear—and still

inside me I believe I carry
the pond where the injured
swans have come to flock. I
believe I hold inside me
the lake into which the beautiful armless mortals wish to wade. I am

their executioner and their creator, after all, being
as I am, their mother. Were

they gods who came to earth to die and suffer, I wonder, or

boys who died and turned into gods? O,

the one I love needs sunblock, I think, too late,
and, perhaps,
a bottle of water, but now
I have no idea where we are. Where

were you, God asks, when I
spread out the heavens and the earth? If you
were not there, then how
can you expect to know where you are now? Truly,

I don't know. I look around.
I say, We're lost,
to the one I love, who

looks over my shoulder and laughs.
No, Mom, he says and points to dot and arrow
of ourselves
on the map.

You're holding the battlefield upside down.

—Laura Kasischke

[BlueIris]

1. I will cry if no one reads this. CRY. nt

[CaliforniaPeggy]

2. My dear BlueIris!

Wow, this is a complex poem!

I'm not sure I entirely get it...

But it looks like a mom considering the life of her son who stands on the battlefield...

And how his life mingles with mythology and the history of the place...

But even though I don't really get it, I do feel how lovely the imagery is!

Thank you!

:hug:

[BlueIris]

3. I think you "get it," C-Peg.

[BlueIris]

4. Wow, this actually got some views. Cool beans.

I'm very impressed with some of you.