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Poem by Katya Sabaroff Taylor


Here we sit

in the mystery of

consciousness

heated by the summer air.

Where do we go?

Where will the poem take us?

The crickets anticipate our

pens scratchings

and the chimes play along,

the rocking chair accompanies

us with its simple to and fro.

Here we sit, ablaze

with the desire to please the Muse.

She’s enjoying the way

the nouns and verbs tumble

into a constellation

where the stars will always line up

if we obey the laws

not written in any manual.

We pause and wonder

how the axis of the world will hold

and if we steer the rudder

that will lead us to the harbor.

How does the brain

leap the old synapses?

We want to know how

to create a calligraphy

in a new language

so bold and tender that

to laugh and cry

is just so easy.


Katya

June 28, 2020




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