Still not return.
Still not outside.
How many days?
One hundred and twenty. One hundred and twenty-one.
transmitter in the attic, how it sent
voice over the sea—
over waves, across borders.
difficult to believe.
letters for capons, hams, hens.
wine through the mail.
lambs in suitcases on the train,
meat for an enormous profit.
fined for locking doors,
No eye contact.
no lovers strolling
such rules are not written down
Icy winds whirl
inside old room, slow rain of hours
fingers over seashells
ordering by size, species, morphology,
checking and rechecking,
not missed a single one.
For today’s NaPoWriMo poem, I was inspired by Margo Roby: Wordgatherer to fashion a poem out of a found source text. The source text is a small section from Anthony Doerr’s book, “All the Light We Cannot See.”
I began by removing proper names and personal pronouns–soon followed by present tense verbs and specific places. From there, I inserted my own line breaks as well as removal of a few phrases to make the poem run smoother. I hope you enjoy it 😀
Image by Boyoun Kim