Monarch
Those of us who survive are waiting for normal life, believing in the idea, though everybody knows from months of TV that the wait has extended impossibly, like a line in space or a rope stretched beyond all capacity. We see signs. Who doesn’t want some small thing to interpret? A dumb movie plastered on a fresh billboard, the diesel stink of a packed bus. Everything seems to announce itself. We’re eating at intervals now, mimicking what we know we were used to, but there’s no escaping nostalgia for old irritations, crowds and short tempers, anything to get a rise out of somebody. No one is willing to be rude. We assure ourselves that things will change, we will change. For a time we can serve as our own confessors. But even now people are on street corners, hugging themselves and speaking to no one or simply the air. Just last week the monarchs fluttered in from Mexico and left as quickly. In a northerly direction.
ARACHNE 0002
to start is always hard wind seizing
a single strand of silk extruded
keeping it till it sticks to a branch
an anchor then the line paced over
each passage a tensile accretion
the primary thread needs to hold
an orb’s Y- shaped netting the first three
radials the distance between them
small enough for crossing the length of
the body being the measure
but whether the structure takes form as
a funnel or tangle sheet or dome
it must be fortified the drag line
laid down for safety in the air
Ekleksographia #1
January 2009
Poems
Elisabeth Frost
Elisabeth Frost is the author of The Feminist Avant-Garde in American Poetry and co-editor of Innovative Women Poets: An Anthology of Contemporary Poetry and Interviews. She is an associate professor at Fordham University. Recent poetry has appeared in HOW2 and the finale issue of Electronic Poetry Review. “ARACHNE 0002” is excerpted from a collaboration with the visual artist Dianne Kornberg; the work will be exhibited at the Chicago Cultural Center in 2009 as part of “The Poetic Dialogue Project.”