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 suture, obnoxious, carton, and testament. Below are the resulting selected poems.
If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the four new words are chap, oregano, eraser, and feral. Send your poem(s) to email@example.com by June 1, 2004.
(Click on the title to view the whole poem!)
I Used to Want to Live in South Dakota
there was something about
a land so sure of itself
that even shit could come clean
Animals on the Beach
The cottages that line the shore
are a carton of Easter eggs,
their lavenders and peaches
obnoxious anywhere but here.
I backhanded you, my diamond
nicking your ear. That's so old testament,
you said, pressing your fingers against the lobe
Two Word Poems
Carry this package house to house,
from childbirth to separation; don't
listen to your parents echoes from
The meaning of the Sabbath lies dormant,
prayers tucked away in drawers,
others dried out like sultanas on a rack
The skull reeked with obnoxious possibility,
silently facing the back wall,
a testament to some ancient genius
James M. Thompson
a testament to emptiness,
Deborah P. Kolodji
I file this in the white and yellow milk carton on a high shelf in the corner of the ramshackle shed in my mind. This is where I keep you now.