John Stickney

John reports he's "that other John Stickney, from Cleveland, Ohio". His second collection of poetry is THESE AMERICAN MOMENTS, and he can be reached at jjstick@stratos.net.

THE PENUMBRA POEM

(after Robert Desnos)

Penumbra, My Glutton

A penumbra named Penumbra was shelved in a closet,

A penumbra that wanted to see the whole world.

The shelf is too high.

The closet light, too low.

I shall watch the flight of motes.

They take flight and journey to the world below.

The closet light is too high.

The shelf, too low.

These motes would make the base of a fine burgoo.

Up on a shelf, everything looks like a tasty ingredient.

Everything makes one's lips smack.

Penumbra, Styling

My Penumbra

Turning this way

And that

Wearing a burgonet

In front of the full-

Length mirror

Asks:

"Too much?"

Oh my Penumbra,

My dear sweet Penumbra

On you there is no

Too much

My Calling Card Penumbra

My Penumbra telephones from an unknown location. It is top secret,

hence scrambled. It sounds like radios set to two different

frequencies. Underneath the electronic gibberish I sense the beat of

her burglarious heart. Oh my Penumbra, I am yours, always...

Absent, My Penumbra

My dearest Penumbra, your prolonged absence made the mice which are my

engine lie down in the slow browning grass. See how still they are,

softly napping, tails and whiskers all but motionless. As soon as your

letters arrive there is such a change! Up on their hind legs, they

demand your words, consume them as if dining on wine and loaves and

cheese.

I was half-asleep when you left; your departing burgee already absorbed

by the horizon. I am barely half-awake, stumbling about in this metal

city, gates and streets and midnight air tasting of pocket warm house

keys. My penumbra, my dearest Penumbra, without you there is nothing

worth possessing....

Unwinding, Penumbra Seeks the Burl At the Center of my Chest

Intent on unwinding

My Penumbra,

My angelic aspect,

My memorable and strange burgrave

I call you

As in the outpouring of prayers

I call you

With the utmost fervor and fasting

I besiege

Your beardless face

(you are still beardless I trust)

please return promptly and rewound!

Through miraculous intercessions,

What whispers we will foster!

What invisible dark ages we will instill!

Penumbra, the Return

My Penumbra, traipsing

Among the lotus eaters.

My Penumbra, regarding

The uneaten lotuses

Through her lorgnette.

My Penumbra, returned.

John Stickney