It’s comfortable here, you know.
They got me this La-Z-Boy rocker-
recliner, with the swivel base. All
I gotta do is drop one toe
to the ground teeming with bugs
and push, to spin around, survey
this Eden. Now Adam, he’s wandering
around naming, naming, naming
the multitude of plants and animals
but it’s tough, you know, since
we didn’t first invent language.
Who can remember those sounds
that spark the memory,
to actually invoke the toad, raven,
hyena, the poppies, the anteater?
Not to mention those things without
touchable forms, you know, sunlight,
the wind, the fog. And how about
writing? How will we remember
what we named the hedgehog yesterday?
We haven’t even figured out
vowels from consonants. We
are so getting ahead of ourselves.
What’s next? Crossword puzzles?
God created everything, and now
we gotta do the paperwork.
Won’t you slither under the gate here,
Snake, and flick the latch
with your forkèd tongue?
I want to go to town,
check things out.
Get my nails done.
–
Leslie Hodge studied with San Diego’s first Poet Laureate, Ron Salisbury, and co-founded a weekly Poetry Salon. Her poems appear or are forthcoming in journals including Catamaran Literary Reader, The Main Street Rag, ONE ART, Pigeon Pages, and South Florida Poetry Journal. Leslie is currently reading for The Adroit Journal.