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donall-dempseyPoems
A LATE 1962-ISH PUDDLE It was a late 1962-ish puddle. A Curragh puddle to be exact but you ...wouldn't know that. A moon had fallen asleep in it with scattered silver stars nailing it to the ground. I was 6-ish by then & had encountered more puddles than you could ever splash about in. But, this was the first puddle I ever remember. An Ur-puddle. To the rest of the world it was as if it had never been & existed only for me. A robin stood at my side. Us both...staring at the puddle. Suddenly the robin made up its mind & stepped defiantly into this miniature ocean. The robin stood on the moon which shattered & reformed itself about its tiny feet. It was the first robin I'd seen walking on the moon. The puddle lived inside my head for many many years until these words came along and took it away. It was like the hand of a man long long before history was invented pressed against the flickering cave wall leaving a sooty hand print in celebration of himself. "This mark means me!" My late 1962-ish Curragh puddle and that robin walking on a watery moon is my handprint on the cave wall of my mind in the long long ago. I laugh at the me-ness of me!
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May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
A LATE 1962-ISH PUDDLE
A LATE 1962-ISH PUDDLE It was a late 1962-ish puddle. A Curragh puddle to be exact but you ...wouldn't know that. A moon had fallen asleep in it with scattered silver stars nailing it to the ground. I was 6-ish by then & had encountered more puddles than you could ever splash about in. But, this was the first puddle I ever remember. An Ur-puddle. To the rest of the world it was as if it had never been & existed only for me. A robin stood at my side. Us both...staring at the puddle. Suddenly the robin made up its mind & stepped defiantly into this miniature ocean. The robin stood on the moon which shattered & reformed itself about its tiny feet. It was the first robin I'd seen walking on the moon. The puddle lived inside my head for many many years until these words came along and took it away. It was like the hand of a man long long before history was invented pressed against the flickering cave wall leaving a sooty hand print in celebration of himself. "This mark means me!" My late 1962-ish Curragh puddle and that robin walking on a watery moon is my handprint on the cave wall of my mind in the long long ago. I laugh at the me-ness of me!
donall-dempsey
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donall-dempsey
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
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