Stone Soup Croutons, 1-25-23: This is It, They Say

Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions selected from Stone Soup Poetry's open mic readers and features. I figure out a title (and sometimes the rest of the poem) later. You can read the other ones I've done since 2015 here.

 

Stone Soup came back on Wednesday after I had to be away for a wake and funeral (they often go back to back). I came back to have some fun and apparently complete the depressing triptych of poems and didn't even know I was attempting. 

Dr. Tara Betts is featuring next week. I'm excited for that. I hope you are too. Thanks for reading.

This is It, They Say

New year is a leap 

of faith into iced-over

pond. Only hope 

is that frozen sheet

splits like posterboard

or odd stray shard

will emulate tiger's

tooth, cut misery

quick. 2023 is a 

flightless bird who

depends on kindness

of frightened tourists

to keep it afloat,  

Frenchman praying

that apathetic workers

of nearest closing 

bookstore will know

his language fluently.

Now angels circle you,

airborne crocodiles 

around slabs of meat.

No pressure. You are

in sanctuary until it 

forecloses as moon

draws closer. Soon 

what's left behind will

not even be left. 

Fossilized footsteps

of all the monkeys

before you, gone,

thrown in file with

last of old universe,

lost behind cabinet.

Too small to even

lodge Lego-like into

a God's bare sole.

Student and dropout

led out door, until

there isn't one. 

One more piece of

forgotten everything

in titan's lost and found.

I hate when my iPhone leaves a shadow.

Special thanks to Mary Jennings, Ed Gault, Nancy Dodson, Julianne Powers, Alexander Perez, Bil Lewis, Jon Wesick, Angelo D'Amato, Jr., C.C. Arshagra, Jeff Taylor, Kathleen Hulser and Kkumar Prasanna.