Soft-Bodied Creatures

Oct 27 2015

The concrete poured

in a wet slurry

into its wooden form

leaden grey.

I could sense its weight;

the heaviness

pressing into the corners,

the layered pour

settling out.

Where it sat

like cooling lava

and began to set;

smooth

                 ...warm

                                     ...level.

Which is when the maple leaf

drifted onto the slab

dead centre,

translucently thin

brittle with fall.

Its filigree of veins

branching, and branching again

left a fine impression

in the setting cement;

such granular detail

in so coarse a substance,

such evanescence

in so durable a slab.

Ancient fossils

have lasted millions of years,

soft-bodied creatures

in indelible rock.

Like this passing leaf's

permanent mark.

The incalculable odds

that made a fragile leaf

immortal.

And like a found poem,

the random chance

that graced a plain slab

with unexpected beauty.

This is a true story: the single fragile leaf ending up dead centre; the unlikelihood of such a true and fine impression in so coarse a substance.

Although "found poem" usually refers to finding unintentional poetry in overheard conversations or random fragments of prose, all poems are "found". Especially the kind I'm attracted to, which are mostly about the small inconsequential things of daily life (what I've previously referred to as "microcosm"), and which become grist for poetry when I keep myself obervant, receptive, open. That 4th last line found its way into the poem as almost an afterthought. But I think it really makes the piece. Because, in the sense I just described, the poem itself is "found". It says to the reader: " ...look, and listen; there is poetry everywhere, if you pay attention."

I could have pushed this idea and called the piece "Found Poem". But I'd rather leave that to the end, as a sudden change in direction. (And, after all, everything I write could go by that name!) Also, I rather like both the misdirection and intrigue of Soft-Bodied Creatures. I think it pulls the reader on. It doesn't re-appear until well into the poem, an echo that gives the phrase that extra resonance. And I like the way it clashes with the first line: the sharp break, going from soft-bodied to concrete.