Poetry by Linda Ferguson
Once I was
‘smart, pretty, quiet’ –
and always smiling, my bones a cage of politeness –
until I grew claws and fangs – I bit and ran – snowflakes
and chestnut burrs gathering in my fur – mouth open, panting –
now, new possibilities – why not, too, develop wings
or scales – how would it feel to shimmer, to slip
my liquid bones through a crack in mafic rocks – to rise
above clusters of plump sea grapes with a flick
of luminous fins?
Maybe I am amphibious, ready to plunge,
nameless, into new, wet worlds –
Why confine myself to a single species – why not be
the pulsing pink of coralline algae –
why not paddle and feed among the lace of sea grasses
spreading across the ocean floor in beds so vast
planets look down and marvel at their breadth –
And you – surely you’re not defined, either,
by the make of your car, your address –
Could we be the tender flesh of a crab or
the ruffled white collar of the plumose anemone
or a kaleidoscope of phytoplankton:
striped and puffed and beaked, antennaed clouds
of pastry cream, iridescence of star-shaped
aquatic confetti – reproducing –
and more – under water and on land – perhaps
we’re the tip of the thorn of a crimson rose, the fat tail
of the raccoon draping like a stole off the plum tree’s arm –
and maybe we’re the plum blossoms, too, our scent beckoning
to honeybees and oh, let us be the honey – the chemical
reaction between nectar, enzymes and evaporation –
Come, let us grow organically from fragrant soil
or from the green pond floor or in the endless field
of gas and dust of the atmosphere – let us flourish
where we’re planted, blown or roam –
let us astonish ourselves with unimagined
flowering.
Linda Ferguson has won awards for her poetry and lyrical nonfiction and been nominated for a Pushcart Prize for fiction. Her poetry chapbook, Baila Conmigo, was published by Dancing Girl Press. As a writing teacher, she has a passion for helping students find their voice and explore new territory. Plié – Poetry & Prose by Linda Ferguson