Poetry Hides

in the corner shadows of a horse's stall,
the bright scales and slime of a cut throat trout,
the white paint borders of a soccer field,

in fragments of dreams
and white bowls of green grapes,

in jeans rolled up, cuffs heavy with salt water and sand,
the shouts and whispers that dance around a campfire,
the silver chill of a pre-dawn sky,
a frost covered sleeping bag,

in catching fireflies,
a fiery moonrise over the lake,
the coffee and garbage smell of a monday morning,

in a dangling lightbulb,
a cold kitchen floor,
steam rising to meet the hovering shadows,

in the opening scenes of horror films
and unscripted break ups,

in the bins of vinyl resting on the rough floors of record shops,
the ones with stray nails that will rip your jeans if you sit down to dig in,

in the spiraling smoke of incense
the rising of dumplings
and too sweet cake batter,

in the paper clip i picked up off the kindergarten floor
and twisted beyond recognition,

in the spin of the fan hovering over my bed,
the black hole of glow in the dark stickers,
the music box tinkling "Puff the Magic Dragon"
dissolving my adolescent angst,

in well worn yoga mats and pots of chili,
bus rides through the mountains and snowy summer mornings,

in coats abandoned and adopted at the train station
with old tissues puffing out the pockets.

                                                JM, October 24, 2010
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Just some thoughts I might share with my classes.  We all need to know where to look for poetry, especially when the big concepts want to trick us into trite middle school verse.