This is by Ellen Bryant Voigt from “Messenger-- New and Selected Poems 1976-2006”
Snakeskin
Down on the porch, the blacksnake
sits like a thick fist.
His back is flexed and slick.
The wedge of his forehead turns
to the sun. He does not remember
the skin shucked in the attic,
the high branches of our family tree.
The moth will not recall the flannel
cocoon. The snail empties the endless
convolutions of its shell. Think
of the husk of the locust,
sewn like an ear to the elm.
How easily they leave old lives,
as an eager lover steps from the skirts
at her ankles.
Sleep corrects memory;
the long sleep of bear and woodchuck,
the sleep of the sea,
the sleep of the wooden spool unwinding,
the sleep of snow, when houses lose
their angles and edges, the slow
sleep of no dreaming;
and we could rise up in new skins
to a tall confusion of green,
to the slick stalks of grasses,
and the catalpa, that beany tree, offering
its great, white, aromatic promise.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
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3 comments:
Another perfect poem Ann; Nature and the theme of rebirth, not knowing origins, asleep in the here and now, to rise renewed and free of memory.
But I had to look up Catalpa, thinking it related to the cycling of the cicada.
Not so. Catalpas have an association with river banks and the catalpa sphinx moth, an obligate parasite, that makes a great catfish bait
http://www.ag.auburn.edu/enpl/bulletins/catalpasphinx/catalpasphinx.htm
The Catalpa Sphinx Moth
A burst rustle of leaves, slaps of stream beating bank.
Sphinx moth larva inches forward, ventures forth from the trunk.
Catfish dreams echo dully, drumbeats reveille, shaking camp, tent and bunk.
Brown-green leathery skin, like the mud where it’s sunk.
Will silver barb cleft your palate, oh you slumbering fish-cat.
Will your sphinx smile shatter, oh, you’d best not think that.
And you Catalpa Caterpillar, Catfish killer, coiled on your leafy prayer mat.
Will you sprout wings and soar, fore they lay you down flat?
Will you be captured, thrust through shiny curved spear
Tethered line close to shore, though no rescue comes here.
For you are the pretender to another’s life ender. And yet, dare not to cheer.
Though you’re the not the pray hunted, your end is as near.
Or will nature ignore man’s soft footsteps on river’s shore.
Will a wind gust send you down softly to a watery floor.
Catfish feelers are feeling, crash called to a ceiling, that is breached as before.
Sounds sent down splashing; come! Heaven’s manna and more.
Above, a black writhing crescent moon's silhouette.
Shedding off ringlets of silver, casting circled waves of regret.
Catfish’s smile rises up like the Nile's crocodile. Is there a hook to be set?
Open round to round target, fatal kiss to be met.
Catfish maw closing down on the Sphinx moth’s bait.
Neither ponder, nor fathom, of each other’s fate.
Not knowing; who is next to be eaten,
Who is yet to be ate.
Hmm, I thought it was the catalpa TREE. Now there's a catalpa moth? Hmmmm. Time to hit the Google!
Googling Catalpa or by the Site above
It is a Catalpa tree and the moth is the adult stage of
Ceratomia catalpae ©
Catalpa Caterpillar
Best known as Hawk Moth, Sphinx Moth. But if you ask for “Catalpa worms for Catfish”
the Bait Shop proprietor would know.
By your leave; Second draft
The Sphinx Moth/Catalpa Caterpillar/Catfish Connection
Claps of wind blown Catalpa leaves, slaps of river waves beating bank.
Sphinx moth larva inches forward, ventures forth from the trunk.
Catfish dreams echo dully, drumbeats reveille, shaking camp, tent and bunk.
Brown-green leathery skin, mirrors mud where it’s sunk.
Will silver barb cleft your palate, oh, you slumbering fish-cat.
Will your sphinx smile shatter, oh, you’d best not think that.
And you Catalpa Caterpillar, Catfish killer, coiled on your leafy prayer mat.
Will you sprout wings and soar, fore they lay you down flat?
Will you be captured, thrust through curved shiny spear
Tethered line close to shore, though no rescue comes here.
For you are the pretender to another’s life ender. And so, dare not cheer.
Though you’re the not the pray hunted, your end is as near.
Or will nature ignore man’s soft footsteps on river’s shore.
Will a wind gust send you down softly, to a watery floor.
Catfish barbels are feeling, called to crash a ceiling, that was breached before.
Sounds sent down splashing; Come! Heaven’s manna and more.
Above, a black writhing crescent moon's silhouette.
Shedding off ringlets of silver, casting circled waves of regret.
Catfish’s smile rises up like the Nile crocodile's. Is a hook to be set?
Open round to round target, fatal kiss to be met.
Catfish maw closing down on the Sphinx moth’s bait.
Neither ponder, nor fathom, of each other’s fate.
Not knowing; who is next to be eaten,
Who is yet to be ate.
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