Categories
Poetry

The Wasp in the Practice Room

By David Francis

Courtesy: Creative Commons.
THE WASP IN THE PRACTICE ROOM 


It’s taken three days
to discover
how the wasp came
into this room.

The vents.

I watch the wasp walking
upside-down on the ceiling.
I rather admire him.
I keep a respectful distance.

I’ve spent hours before,
snaring insects into cups --
feeling that a noble course
in a day of dying seconds.

I have a conscience.
Acute by depression of force,
I have no urge to hurt tiny living
beings.

But my brother, a child,
comes to this room, mornings.
He plays a special drum
I gave to him.
In fact, I made it for him.

I must kill the wasp.
I can’t catch him.
He has his arguments in his stinger.
No one likes to feel that
in his tired flesh.
I revel in the phenomenon
of the soul.
My thoughts are resolute;
I must kill the wasp and
I do so.
My soul, however, hates nature.
It is dissatisfied with
situations, events.

The soul is skeptical
of lesser evils.
The soul doubts.

David Francis has produced seven music albums, Always/Far: a chapbook of lyrics and drawings, and Poems from Argentina (Kelsay Books).  He has written and directed the films, Village Folksinger
(2013) and Memory Journey (2018).  He lives in New York City. 

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

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