Once-ler

My mysterious Once-ler.

I found her where the grickle-grass grows at the far end of town.

Perhaps if you put 15 cents and a nail, and the shell of a great-great-great grandfather snail in her tin pail she will tell you a story.

There is a space

in 2013 I posted this, from memory version of this poem.

Today a copy of the actual poem got burped up from a pile of papers.

There is a space

between

the rain and snow

where

the two are close
but never joined

one

giving life
to the other

each

knowing
when

to let go.

This same space

separates

mothers
from daughters
who are

known

to make icy slush
by both attempting
to exist in
this space
at once.

(C) March 1992 - P.V.

A copy of this was given to a visiting instructor from Italy to take back to use in her class room.

The poem was for a open mike poetry reading at the college. The way its spaced is how it should be read. I use a hushed 1/2 whispery voice to mimic the weird sound of silence and falling snow. Very effective.

It has been professionally published in an hardbound poetry collection.

and...you know what? even after all these years it still knocks my socks off!