I WILL NOT BE SAD IN THIS WORLD
after an Armenian melody
Though fog rolls
off the coast,
and a goat turns
its whiskey eye to find me
and finds me. . .
I will not be sad in this world.
Though squirrels rise up laughing
even while begging
forgiveness. . .
I will not be sad in this world.
Though my hands fill with whelks,
I build cairns, think in Braille,
read flatness
in the ocean, and my soul dilates
like onyx. . . .
I will not be sad in this world.
Not sad, not flesh filled with mist.
And not in this world,
though I crouch among spruce and ghosts
and kiss the mouth
I thought would be soft.
It is tight
with dirt.
The goat circles,
and I know. . .
but I will not be sad in this world.
Source of the text - Rachel Contreni Flynn, Ice, Mouth, Song. Dorset, VT: Tupelo Press, 2005, pp. 68-9.
Bourguignomicon: This refusal-to-mourn litany is built of solid objects & quirky details. Listen to the anaphoric force of “though,” more so than “because.”
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