I'm tired of narrative right now, and yet I can't quite escape it. In honor of this, I'm posting Misty Harper's beautiful poem, "Plot." I just reread Misty's chapbook (chosen by Charles Simic for the PSA Chapbook Prize) and it's so good. She does such wonderful things by impregnating common phrases with unexpected images. Here you go:
Plot
Never Fails. Slick with ice
then thick with blossoms.
Let birds subpoena the trees.
Let Miscellany loosen her ornate plot.
I was born on my due date.
I was placed on a red plate.
A nurse said O Sawbones
this one doesn't look too good.
Arithmatic of pestilence and light,
answer my hands their questions.
Answer my questions their hands.
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