Metaphor

Metaphor

                                                                            (after a text by Yi-Fu Tuan)

I.

The metaphor I love                                        it is like this:

We are mariners on a sea.
Below deck bored and
surviving.                                                           Suffocating
we are                                                                 in the dark.

Vivid and rushing surround
the vast and worn waters

and we know                                                      only murky telltales,
only candled flicker
encased in
                                                                              mildewed plank.

The metaphor                                                    it is like this:
goes from mariners to
majesty.                                                               The ancient and
aching.                                                                 The unbounded light
                                                                              above.

The metaphor I love                                         it is like this:
it assures an answer.
                                                                               What else? What more?

Aching                                                                  light unbounded.
A majesty.                                                             A miracle
                                                                               above.



II.

As a child
I thought death throes was
                                                                               death throws.

Never seen it                                                        never ever seen it never
‘cept for movies and TV.                                   Didn’t read books

so I thought death throes was
                                                                               death throws.

Thought death meant                                        throwing limbs
                                                                               through sheets

last gasp last breath
last one. Wonder what
will come:
                                                                               throwing limbs
                                                                               through sheets?

I thought death throes was
                                                                               death throws

until the chaplain,
the chaplain she                                                  explained
death throes.

She gave me a book                                            that spoke

death as transition:                                              a little book
                                                                               center-stapled
                                                                               squared not quite
                                                                               octavo-sized.

The text read “e” “s”                                            not “w” “s”.

Turns out                                                              death throws is

Death throes:                                                       single iterant of
                                                                               body’s fitful shutter.