Apprehending the Atlas,
Pondering its problems.
Its all wrong.
Stay calm world,
I've got this.
Got a box of Crayolas.
Look from the box to the map.
Is sixty-four enough?
There's a lot of work to do.
Colored wax to the rescue!
Where to start?
Where to start?
Where to start?
Big problems. That's it.
Hot spots. Get them fixed.
Jerusalem. Everyone wants it.
Jews. Muslims. Christians.
We take complex toys
from toddlers and shelve them
So, out goes Jerusalem.
(I'm going to need the Holy Blue
Uh, Cerulean? Close enough)
Where to put it?
Greenland! Perfect. Plop it down.
The Dome of the Rock.
The Wailing Wall
and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre
resting on glaciers and Inuit bones.
Denmark controls Greenland?
Whoops, sorry about that Danes.
Think of the tourism
A hundred million pilgrims
are pointed your way.
You might want to put on the coffee.
Australia catches my eye.
It looks suspicious
loitering down there in the corner
All of those sun kissed faces,
big hearts and big hands.
That's a hot spot too!
Skootch over New Zealand.
I need some room.
Magenta in hand
(remember- they drive on the left down there)
I draw one car door in the Tasman Sea
There. Too Hot Australia?
Just reach over and roll down the window.
There are too many borders in Africa
Out comes my white crayon
Sharpest one in the box
Never been used
and I'm coloring over every border,
erasing boundaries,
freeing the continent
and wondering what this metaphor means.
Did I paint snow in the Sahara?
Did it rain somewhere in the jungle?
Let this be the wax of peace.
Let me admire you Galatea
Not bad. Not bad at all.
There's North America.
The United States
A thrombus of throngs
Gordian in depth
Unfathomable and nearly opaque
My home, somewhere, under there.
Connecticut? What were we thinking?
Such a long name. Such a small state.
There's Long Island. We're north.
I can't write us in. Not enough room.
Out comes scarlet
and down goes one red heart.
Home.
My little red heart
clinging to a continent
looks hopelessly lonely.
Someone throw it a line
Tie it fast before it goes over
and is lost into the Atlantic.
Sorry New Jersey.
You're shit-out-of-luck.
No heart for you!
Now I feel bad.
What kind of poet am I?
They're still suffering from the storm
I couldn't begrudge a bit of crayon?
Oh okay, here New Jersey, have a heart.
Two little red hearts
cling to the continent.
And one big map
left far too blank.
Sigh. There's only one thing to do.
Grip the scarlet and start to the right
One red heart for Puget sound
A line of hearts marches east
then south goes the love
to Baja and then east again
Scarlet, scarlet and more scarlet
The Dakotas, Colorado Minnesota
Arizona, New Mexico and Texas
An army of little red hearts
splash right across the Mississippi
(Sorry Canada, thought you wouldn't mind
some wayward love wandered your way).
I finish Florida first in a glossy read sheen
then up the East coast over beaches and....
Washington?
Skip the District, come back later,
Down from Maine marches my mad army
a cascade of love joins my home
and New Jersey.
One small spot is left unblemished
Our Capital. The District of Columbia
Hordes of hearts crowded outside its gates
The murmur of my army
a mantra of peace painted red
infiltrating the Capitol
with scarlet whisps
infecting our leaders
with love.
Pondering its problems.
Its all wrong.
Stay calm world,
I've got this.
Got a box of Crayolas.
Look from the box to the map.
Is sixty-four enough?
There's a lot of work to do.
Colored wax to the rescue!
Where to start?
Where to start?
Where to start?
Big problems. That's it.
Hot spots. Get them fixed.
Jerusalem. Everyone wants it.
Jews. Muslims. Christians.
We take complex toys
from toddlers and shelve them
So, out goes Jerusalem.
(I'm going to need the Holy Blue
Uh, Cerulean? Close enough)
Where to put it?
Greenland! Perfect. Plop it down.
The Dome of the Rock.
The Wailing Wall
and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre
resting on glaciers and Inuit bones.
Denmark controls Greenland?
Whoops, sorry about that Danes.
Think of the tourism
A hundred million pilgrims
are pointed your way.
You might want to put on the coffee.
Australia catches my eye.
It looks suspicious
loitering down there in the corner
All of those sun kissed faces,
big hearts and big hands.
That's a hot spot too!
Skootch over New Zealand.
I need some room.
Magenta in hand
(remember- they drive on the left down there)
I draw one car door in the Tasman Sea
There. Too Hot Australia?
Just reach over and roll down the window.
There are too many borders in Africa
Out comes my white crayon
Sharpest one in the box
Never been used
and I'm coloring over every border,
erasing boundaries,
freeing the continent
and wondering what this metaphor means.
Did I paint snow in the Sahara?
Did it rain somewhere in the jungle?
Let this be the wax of peace.
Let me admire you Galatea
Not bad. Not bad at all.
There's North America.
The United States
A thrombus of throngs
Gordian in depth
Unfathomable and nearly opaque
My home, somewhere, under there.
Connecticut? What were we thinking?
Such a long name. Such a small state.
There's Long Island. We're north.
I can't write us in. Not enough room.
Out comes scarlet
and down goes one red heart.
Home.
My little red heart
clinging to a continent
looks hopelessly lonely.
Someone throw it a line
Tie it fast before it goes over
and is lost into the Atlantic.
Sorry New Jersey.
You're shit-out-of-luck.
No heart for you!
Now I feel bad.
What kind of poet am I?
They're still suffering from the storm
I couldn't begrudge a bit of crayon?
Oh okay, here New Jersey, have a heart.
Two little red hearts
cling to the continent.
And one big map
left far too blank.
Sigh. There's only one thing to do.
Grip the scarlet and start to the right
One red heart for Puget sound
A line of hearts marches east
then south goes the love
to Baja and then east again
Scarlet, scarlet and more scarlet
The Dakotas, Colorado Minnesota
Arizona, New Mexico and Texas
An army of little red hearts
splash right across the Mississippi
(Sorry Canada, thought you wouldn't mind
some wayward love wandered your way).
I finish Florida first in a glossy read sheen
then up the East coast over beaches and....
Washington?
Skip the District, come back later,
Down from Maine marches my mad army
a cascade of love joins my home
and New Jersey.
One small spot is left unblemished
Our Capital. The District of Columbia
Hordes of hearts crowded outside its gates
The murmur of my army
a mantra of peace painted red
infiltrating the Capitol
with scarlet whisps
infecting our leaders
with love.
Oh, that those people could be infected with love!
ReplyDeleteMy inner Harold came to the surface as I read this recreation of the world.
I highly encourage coloring for all ages. It is good for the soul. Thank you Sandy!
ReplyDelete