Biology by Stephen O'Connor from Poetry (July/August 2008)
Is this happiness or
oyster-life?
This flexing of muscular
torso-foot
joy’s wonder? This sifting of
silt
from food in the shifting
chill-dark?
If, in my mind, there is a
life of flight
in the light beyond the
over-swirl,
must I unfix my lips from this
rock
to be right? Or is my apex to
worry
quartz against my shell?
The maple tree pollen has my head too muddled and stuffy to think coherently this morning. So instead of any insights or reflections, I'll simply offer this little gem of a poem and leave you to ruminate on the questions the poet raises on your own. (Hint: I think the answer to all his questions is YES.)
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