In an ongoing series, the editors, former contributors, and readers of Eclectica have been invited to write a poem containing four pre-chosen words. The words for this issue are chrysanthemum, flip, dial, and heritage. Below are the resulting selected poems.
If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the four new words are clerk, furry, chrome, and bleach. Send your poem(s) to email@example.com by March 1, 2003.
(Click on the title to view the whole poem!)
You didn't answer, but you braided your wet hair,
fluffed it out dry, and floated it around your bony
shoulders like yellow angel fur.
Five Word Poems
Here in the whimper of dials and gears
and circuitry, where grade-separation
is everything: one perfect jab of light
astonishes the sleep-walkers and it's dawn
If afraid, she doesn't say so. Her talk is light,
all talk stays light as the lone skater at the far end
of the frozen television pond, circling in, out
I have been
told it is too difficult to make
a believable miniature human
Like a dial that shows the pressure,
the direction, the speed and the warmth
This dream is simple, a monolith to the
certainty that you are by my shoulder
The Album of Good
We dialed the massive black telephone to talk with Grandma and Grandpa.
I was ten. Their voices crackled like bits of the china plate I broke that October.
I always thought they'd buried all the stillborn
babies on the hill with all the cedars. I'd always
played careful there, especially at night