Sparkle

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And This Is Why I Hold You Poetry Exercise by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer 


SPARKLE


A woman becomes a desk 

still covered in everything 

but what “should be”: 

hangers, a battery, jumper cables, some cards


Jumper cables become electricity

sparking what she has in her purse

frightening to some, yet alluring to many

sons who are always thirsty for a charge


Purse turns now to person, a woman

to the desk; just a woman hellbent on existing,

on taking up space–why not–the rudest of roots do,

yield they flower or weed


Space holds the desk, stars hold the space

and astronauts and rocket ships and extra

terrestrials and terra Incognita

But do either hold songs yet to be sung?


Ships bring about waves, rocketed or not

Singing, her sailors be they of stars or of sea

Terrified comets wrap their tails in knots, 

their source, that one true thing, unknown.


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