7 poems - 7 days - Day 7 REDUX

Remember when I wrote poems? That was fun.

Well my pal Meghan H. (a published poet I'll have you know) was kind enough to go over a few of my bon mots and give me some feedback. She did this a long time ago and I am finally getting to it now. I feel the tying of loose ends is part of my growing up process that today also included finding a dentist!

BUT enough of me being smug about my teeth. Here's a second attempt with a new title. Original here. No promises on when others might get another look.

---Illiterate---

Growing up not Catholic

is the biggest tragedy of my life

I'm not Jewish either

another damnable attack

Lacking the benefits of a Classical education

all I had was a periodic United Church

bereft of pageantry and

rife with white bread sandwiches

There were stories there

and they trace back the same

but I forget, if I ever listened.

So now I write poetry and can't find the archetype

the creation myth

or patchwork of wonder

No raven or turtle to guide me

No shorthand for history

King David's just some king

so are Henry and George and Louis and

Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck.

Science can't help

with its stories told from a lab

book of hard truths and fact

A space clean, fluoresced and sharp

whose lights shine too self

confident and important

Words that might be explaining the universe

but fucked if I understand.

So I stare at the brightly lit and obvious

An opiate's stories

chanting electric prayer into the living

room

Burn and hide to dim the light

and the obvious becomes less and more

an archetype.

What I have is pro wrestling

and last I checked

the Pope's not holding the belt.