michael rogner

Plastic

michael rogner

Plastic

There are 262 words for which you should prepare.
Scandalous. Prompt. Doctrine. I winged it
and underwhelmed. I failed to be eloquent. We are defined
by the length of time before being introduced
to new words. These words come at night
with burnished tips. Microsatellite. Portal.
Yttrium. I can spell these words. I can
define these words. But performance criteria
is imperfectly distilled. Study helps only after
causing more harm. Trembling paper words tell lies
in the dark. There is no such thing as multiple choice.
A) Intuition. B) Endure. C) Plastic. Ours is the language
of prayer. Of speaking in tongues. Of words in drifts
dressing the ground like faded almond blossoms.
They blanket worms which robins wrestle
after each rain. We find them in piles. We find them
adrift. It is February and the sun
is either luminous or radiant. The swans snuck
away in the night. Oxaliplatin. Fluorouracil.
We see how the words feel in our mouths
like frogs getting ready to warble.

Michael Rogner is a restoration ecologist living in Northern California. His poetry has appeared in Willow Springs, The Los Angeles Review, The Minnesota Review, Barrow Street and elsewhere.