DRAWN INTO CIRCLES
Last evening, I placed fresh towels on both dog beds,
heard scratching and rearranging in the night.
This morning, each dog lay curled
into a circle of towel
like a bird’s nest.
How life loves
a circle:
the sun
cups of tea
pizza, roses, embraces
wedding rings, cathedral domes
bells with fat notes radiating like ripples from skipped stones
the egg, the womb, the round opening, downy heads
suckling mouths, breasts, full stomachs, eyes filled
with delight for bubbles and bouncing balls.
Why do we box ourselves into corners
put our babies into rectangular cribs
build square houses and boxy buildings
drive cars to perpendicular crossroads
stare at newspapers, monitors, dollars
go to our rest in hard-edged coffins,
slowly lowered into matching graves?
It’s a comfort
to imagine our rounded bones
becoming round bits of the globe,
our spirits rising to orbit among spiral galaxies,
joining those who completed the circle before us.
by Karen Paul Holmes
published in
Poetry East, Spring 2010
Your Daily Poem, April 10, 2010
The Best of Poetry Hickory Reading Series (Main Street Rag) 2011
Reach of Song, Georgia Poetry Society, 2012
2 comments:
I am honored, Nancy. Thank you.
Love,
Karen
Nancy and Karen,
I always enjoy reading this poem or hearing it read by Karen.
Thanks for sharing it, Nancy.
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