Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Never All Things at Once

Never All Things at Once

White blossoms or green leaves,
not both. “Edelweiss” with the Captain
and Liesl, pink and green-clad children,
Maria watching, or Act II’s reprise,

“Edelweiss” in concert, an anthem
before fleeing. The thousand-miles-away
city that you left to come here. The day
you intend to have, calling a friend

you haven’t spoken to since the holidays,
a cake you will create with fresh ginger
and lemons, laundry and uninjured,
strong body, long walk, bills you pay

two weeks early. And the day that digs
its fingers into you, a sore neck, deadlines
ratcheted tighter. In Kansas, the shrine
you build to Oz. In Oz, you dream of pigs.


  1. is it terribly embarrassing to confess that I've watched the sound of music, oh, say, about a million times?


  2. Yes, why can't some things be simultaneous?

    Thea, I understand you!

  3. oh, the last two sentences are a poem in their own right!!

    this is the function of matter and space, isn't it? to separate things and keep them all from happening at once and in the same place?? ... if it were like that, nothing would have any value ... we wouldn't give a damn about Oz or pigs if we had them both ...

  4. I love the tension between "The day / you intend to have..." and "the day that digs / its fingers into you[.]" Wonderful.


The Storialist. All rights reserved. © Maira Gall.