Write a Fountain
(Common Ground, Spring/Summer 2014)
You can't resign with
that fountain pen lying
there prettily translucent,
forest green, because I am
that pen – I am every pen –
I am waiting
Go home, make tea, think
about pens, emblems, the
creaking table where we
scrawled morning devotions
in parcels of light
The escapes we contrived,
the blue bread truck you
said would be necessary,
the groaning furniture
left for pilgrims
Get out the nibs, smell
the tart ink danger, see
the sure jotting, the
cocked confessions, the
letters looping boldly
Extract plans from
glinting instruments,
read signs through sticky
context, marshal exploits
on opining mahogany
Write out what you are
to me – a book, a shoe, a
puzzle, anything – and say
with lashes of danger ink
why I can't resign
