Hold On
I see the word ventricles and picture the octopus,
though its word is tentacles. A glass of red wine
makes it all so slippery. In a press conference
about the latest shooting, the chief investigator tells us,
"The situation is fluid," and the Senators' word is prayers.
To protect her eggs, the octopus risks it all, including
starvation. How does your mother remember your birth?
Difficult, mine was. Easy, my sister's. We forged ahead
that way for years though ultimately became adults.
And that word is mileage which makes us exactly
like everyone else. We've all had weeks where
the garbage men skip the house and the cable men
raise the rates. The word for no other options is subdued.
The official souvenir of this life will be a map of the sky,
the kind with lines connecting the stars. Or are those
bullet holes? The word for we've shot everything up
is bananas. Let us pray to the imagined octopus
for a moment of grace. My constellation is cephalopod.
All I need to know about anything is how it feels
when I hold it. And the word for that is tend.
though its word is tentacles. A glass of red wine
makes it all so slippery. In a press conference
about the latest shooting, the chief investigator tells us,
"The situation is fluid," and the Senators' word is prayers.
To protect her eggs, the octopus risks it all, including
starvation. How does your mother remember your birth?
Difficult, mine was. Easy, my sister's. We forged ahead
that way for years though ultimately became adults.
And that word is mileage which makes us exactly
like everyone else. We've all had weeks where
the garbage men skip the house and the cable men
raise the rates. The word for no other options is subdued.
The official souvenir of this life will be a map of the sky,
the kind with lines connecting the stars. Or are those
bullet holes? The word for we've shot everything up
is bananas. Let us pray to the imagined octopus
for a moment of grace. My constellation is cephalopod.
All I need to know about anything is how it feels
when I hold it. And the word for that is tend.
Carolee Bennett lives in Upstate New York, where—after a local, annual poetry competition—she has fun saying she has been the “almost” poet laureate of Smitty’s Tavern. She manages the Twitter account for the Tupelo 30/30 writing project, writes reviews for The American Poetry Journal and blogs at Good Universe Next Door.
For “Hold On” —My next tattoo is going to be an octopus, a brilliant, beautiful, curious and elusive creature that frequently occupies my imagination. It’s appropriate that tentacles are entwined with my struggle to know what to do with our collective grief: we must wrap our arms one another. The mother instinct is the way forward.
For “Hold On” —My next tattoo is going to be an octopus, a brilliant, beautiful, curious and elusive creature that frequently occupies my imagination. It’s appropriate that tentacles are entwined with my struggle to know what to do with our collective grief: we must wrap our arms one another. The mother instinct is the way forward.