SATURDAY'S POEM

KNIFE, CUP, AND STONE
by Chris Creelman

Here is a knife,
now I put it to bed,
its dreams cut through moonlight.

This cup holds water,
and with this stone builds a slurry
that sharpens the edge.

I put these dreams to bed also.

Tomorrow the sun arrives bleeding,
and the frost thicker
shall last longer on the windows.

I say to my wife
at the end of the day,
let us gather the loved ones

and head into the night's
forest of dreams.

Chris Creelman, who grew up in rural Massachussets, now lives in Rouses Point, New York, at the intersection of New York, Quebec, and Vermont. He works at the border as an Agriculture Inspector. While living for a while in Zumbro Falls, Minnesota, he and his wife once drove through Minnesota, South Dakota, and North Dakota "mostly off the interstate," and they "still talk of moving to North Dakota." Creelman has a broadside, "Going To War," from Bull Thistle Press.

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A NOTE TO THE POETS OUT THERE
I'm interested in considering your "poems of place" for publication in The Middlewesterner's "Saturday's Poem" feature; send two or three of your best in the body of an e-mail addressed to tmmontag@dotnet.com . Put "Saturday's Poem" in the subject line. Then be patient. I will get back to you about whether I'll use your work or not. Send along a short biographical note and information about where your books can be purchased and I'll include that when your poem runs. There's no payment involved for having your work appear in "Saturday's Poem," but the feature is seen by some few high class readers. Click here for complete index of and access to "Saturday's Poems" poems published prior to September 18, 2004.

Comments

[Peter]

Putting dreams to bed -- I love this.