January dis•articulations poem by Terry Wolverton

At the beginning of the month, Terry gave collaborating poet Jessica Ceballos 4 writing prompts. Jessica produced fevered writing for each prompt and gave it back to Terry. This is the poem Terry has dis•articulated:

HOVER

Years ago I stirred the future
until skyline fell to dirt.
I whispered an outlaw language
that only women heard.
I tasted the orange of the city
on the backs of their necks.
Every day we would bend and lock;
where was the place for wonder?

I became mother to the whales,
visited their seven waters.
I could stay under a long time
and trade funny stories in Spanish.
This was a weapon superior
to history; I could ask them
how they planned to foreclose time,
what the new world would be.

I longed for a chair in the grass
on top of a hill, the canyons
of downtown before me, digestible,
rarified cliffs and new malls.
From this place I could see
the after-years, when all questions
would fall back to the orange dirt,
when I would belong to another life.

— Terry Wolverton

We’re still open for reader poems for the January contest until midnight PST on January 31, 2015. Poems can be based on the prompts, the fevered writing, or the dis•articulations poems. The prize is $25.

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