Wendy Taylor Carlise
The River Has No Hair to Hold Onto
It's only common sense that a life story begins
on a paper napkin and ends in a fleece parka,
put into winter storage and not thought of again
as the warm months unroll. The wise man
maintains all the outlines are there with a comb,
some lint and one crumpled handkerchief from Brooks,
while hair grows, streams rise and subside and float
the plastic bottles, pull tabs, fish eyes and sassafras
leaves that decorate each day?s skin. Radiant, verdant,
transitory as water, the rain, sweat, semen, mostly
end up downstream, confused by gods and jobs.
Meanwhile, I struggle to navigate as the days pour by,
sinuous as rivers, local as a haircut, loose
as dust in a jacket pocket, impossible to guide.
Wendy Taylor Carlisle lives in East Texas, land of Budweiser &
Her first book, Reading Berryman to the Dog was published in 2000 by
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Megan McJunkin from Boise, Idaho | 2002-12-18
This is why I seek poetry.
This poem is indeed best read aloud, on top of a chair, in a public place. I've shared it with others as the year draws to a close. It gets better with every reading. This is why I seek poetry. Thank you, Wendy, and continue on in this way.
Richard Jordan from Woodbridge, VA | 2002-12-12
You set a great tone in this poem, strong use of sound. Wonderful to read out loud.