A Type of Sponge

what if the rest of my life consists of language unraveling?

raveling means the same, the un- is for emphasis

when I wanted to say postage stamp I thought pocket book

as two words, naturally, because I had the sense right, only

the words wrong, Debbie supplied them, I think she sees me

raveling — sees me say something & then wonder aloud

what it is I’ve said & how it relates to what I wanted to say

a type of sponge, I said to the gardener, it was the second

time in one day loofah had failed to resolve — think

stalled synapse, don’t think, speaking is not thinking

it’s speaking, it’s automatic, relies on a lookup function

mine is failing, at one time my mind ran so fast my mouth

could scarcely keep up, my hand could not — these days

my mind loiters, my mouth falters, somewhere a final

curtain gathers itself, readies silent folds for the fall

God’s Justice

by Anne Carson

In the beginning there were days set aside for various tasks.

On the day He was to create justice

God got involved in making a dragonfly

and lost track of time.

It was about two inches long

with turquoise dots all down its back like Lauren Bacall.

God watched it bend its tiny wire elbows

as it set about cleaning the transparent case of its head.

The eye globes mounted on the case

rotated this way and that

as it polished every angle.

Inside the case

which was glassy black like the windows of a downtown bank

God could see the machinery humming

and He watched the hum

travel all the way down turquoise dots to the end of the tail

and breathe off as light.

Its black wings vibrated in and out.