Linguist

Linguist

 

Charles Simic is a sentence.

Marie Kondo is a verb.  Nancy Pagh is

a phoneme, one of 44 ways of indicating

the degree of incarnadine flushing

the maple today at 12:08 Pacific Time.

Nancy Pagh suggests building something

out of water then drinking it.

Putting cold fingers in the mouth

to warm them.  Tasting bacon

cooked long ago in the current

seasoning of a cast-iron pan.  Nancy Pagh

rows to the end of a long lake,

climbs out on the sand to rest, indicating

the voice of a thrush in dark forest

directly behind you.  Nancy Pagh

feels the sweat on your neck.  Phonemic

awareness allows you to notice squared

grains of sand between your toes

as you Marie Kondo this blue sweep of lake:

keeping it, keeping the joy that it sparks,

keeping as well the line of horizon

as buttered and bright as

Charlie Simic, clarified.

2 thoughts on “Linguist

  1. I love the entire concept and construction of this poem! I must say that my favorite lines are “as you Marie Kondo this blue sweep of lake: / keeping it, keeping the joy that it sparks.” Every image is clear and beautiful and perfectly detailed!

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