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Sunday, October 09, 2011

Your Sunday Poem

This charmer by Wislawa Szymborska, from "Monologue of the Dog."

A Little Girl Tugs At The Tablecloth

She's been in this world for over a year,
and in this world not everything's been examined
and taken in hand.

The subject of today's investigation
is things that don't move by themselves.

They need to be helped along,
shoved, shifted,
taken from their place and relocated.

They don't all want to go, e.g., the bookshelf,
the cupboard, the unyielding walls, the table.

But the table cloth on the stubborn table
-- when well-seized by its hems --
manifests a willingness to travel.

And the glasses, plates,
creamer, spoons, bowl,
are fairly shaking with desire.

3 comments:

Sewertoons said...

A very thought provoking poem - not so much on top, but just look below the surface! Thanks Ann!

Anne R. Allen said...

Great one. Love this.

Churadogs said...

The image of that little kid sloooowwly, slooowwly starting to pull at the tablecloth, the eyes widening as the lightbulb goes on over her head, Ah-ha . . . and for the reader the suspense, the anticipated crash as gravity and impetus lead to the inevitable. Wonderful piece of work.