zig : zag

Oh boy, I have to let this one go to the universe, and I’ll come back to it. Been reworking it to death!!! It’s the penultimate poem, so it’s important for many reasons.

Part of my dictionary series. Now my SORROW ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED series. That’s the latest iteration of title. Let me know what you think.

Punctuation — I started off using a bullet to separate syllables, and then numbering to indicate lines or “meanings.” Then I decided instead of 1. I would use 1:. Then I decided I didn’t like the hierarchy of the numbering. Line 1 was not more important than line 9, so I dropped the numbers. How there comes to be a semi-colon “:” at the beginning of each line.

However, in a recent poem in POETRY I came across a poem whereby the poet used two semi-colons at the beginning of a line. Wondering how that might read. What do you think?

zig : zag 

: I dozed when she dozed.          Light
behind my eyes, grooves in the           imperfectly drawn.

: Hospice overlooking a         rock quarry.

: She had been a nurse. The sicker the          better.

: The morphine made her         hallucinate.

: Memories in her moans, reeling         like home movies.   

: Her heavy head in my lap on         long car rides.
Constellation of speckles across her             Fuji cheeks.

: We touched the stars from our         bedroom
window.          Heads together.          Comfort of our bodies.

: The tires of her wheelchair got stuck,      ratcheting
back and forth on the path.

: It hurt to laugh.

: The unraveling of her         night sky
in activities class.          Radiating lines          of blue, gold          and black.

: The lines sympathize in my         sleep.

: She moved like resin to my          everlasting lullaby.

: Repeated naps like           falling.          Always to the same.

: She couldn't eat. Swallowing through a         striped straw.

: The hallways were a          labyrinth.

: Late afternoon stirred          motes in the air.

: The cards weren't lucky. She turned the          suits
face down.

: The pooling of her ankles.          Sicker.

: The lines deconstructed,          broke-off.
She gave me a drawing like a         meteorite.

: Not long now.          I was suspended          in the amber
of her eyes.          She knew.

: How could I thank her for being my         sister?

: The words felt like a           line.

: I tattooed a shooting star          on my wrist,
each line a celestial          ember.

How double semi-colons might look…

zig :: zag 

:: I dozed when she dozed.          Light
behind my eyes, grooves in the           imperfectly drawn.

:: Hospice overlooking a         rock quarry.