The Sunday Poem: Birdie Jaworski... Timeloop Key

Leave it to Birdie Jaworski to be wandering around where she doesn't belong.  Be light-footed Birdie.  Tip-toe…don't kick anything.  Take water.

  Birdie Jaworski lived in Santa Fe and Las Vegas, NM before moving to Albuquerque.  Her memoir, Don't Shoot I'm Just the Avon Lady!, was nominated for a Pushcart Award.



Timeloop Key



The old '50s Carrizo Impact Area
Damn. The Carrizo Impact Area
It tempts me each time I drag
sorry ass up elephant knee mesas

The Army says Don't Cross Carrizo
Impact Area. The signs say Don't
Cross Carrizo Impact Area. My mind
says Don't Stop. Cross it! Who
cares about mines and dodgy bullets
and a stray hydrogen bomb perhaps
lost under mesquite ghost stumps

The army stuffed planes with
megaton testosterone shwag
let it flash flood dry washes
with enemy voodoo pin pricks

They thought no one would see
dive bomb hawks chasing popping
shells, colors of aurora borealis
two thousand miles off course

I keep old casings I find
outside the perimeter
in a wooden cigar box
Sometimes I empty them
on my desk, let them roll
to the parquet, chain of clinks
chain of remembered custody
chained dead human stupidity

I tell you, I'm gonna cross
the line next time. I will
toss my Panama sunhat across
that invisible barrier, follow
with legs ready to run like hell



Poetry submissions are welcome.  Email theditchrider@gmail.com.

Views: 172

Comment by BARBARA BYERS on July 22, 2012 at 8:04am

Hella poem. Thanks.

Comment by Margaret Randall on July 22, 2012 at 8:05am

Great images in this poem! And it's almost always a good idea to cross those lines, real and metaphorical... there's got to be a reason they don't want us to, and poems are filled with those reasons.

Comment by Birdie Jaworski on July 22, 2012 at 10:39am

Thanks, Barbara! 

Margaret, thanks! There is a fine line between curious and chasing-death-wish, and maybe poetry is the intersection of those points...

Comment by Dee Cohen on July 22, 2012 at 1:03pm

Sharp images and strong statement. It's good to toss your hat over the line sometimes. Thanks, D

Comment by Ben Moffett on July 22, 2012 at 8:32pm

If Birdie survived las calles de Santa Fe and Las Vegas, she need not worry about minefields, testosterone or dry gulches. Finding old casing is like stamp collecting, comparatively speaking. Still it takes some nerve to toss one's Panama across that invisible barrier. I love that last verse especially.

Comment by Sandra Vallie on July 23, 2012 at 7:21am

Morning, Birdie!

Keep crossing the lines, dancing around stray hydrogen bombs, ducking stray bullets, shaking your fist planes stuffed with "megaton testosterone shwag" and running old casings and old lies through your fingers to clank empty on the floor. Great poem. Thank you.

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