Sarah St Vincent Welch #214 Confrontations of writing a poem every day and sharing it online (on the line) 1

shadow of a detail from  Fiona Hall's and the Tjanpi Desert Weavers (Animals from Another Time)

everything everything I tell you

to do, everything I teach

I have also undone

done wrong

can I spell?

can I count?

sometimes well

if at the top of my game

but here is the evidence I can’t

one mistake maybe two or three
or more

stabs my liver with shame

I am lashed with that misplaced apostrophe

shame flaming my throat

(I remember my drama teacher sharing,

here’s the trick girls, with this,

say it backwards unravel it

and listen

to where it ends

that’s where you put the apostrophe then,

that’s the magic that works

for me, and acting)

so I spell my own name wrong sometimes

and don’t notice quickly enough

(I do have a long name)

(is that an ok excuse?)

I can’t count my daily poems

as well as I should, lost in dreaming,

soul shards

flakes

I can’t understand the unit outline,

when my assignments are due, or

how much they are worth

and in dreams I am still enrolled

in classes I never knew to attend

am lost in the great chase around the world

to find the exam

too late

open my paper and it is written in Arabic, and

cuneiform

(I think)

the script shimmers off the page

along the floor and out the window

some words I’ve never learned how to spell

check them over and over

writing a poem every day and showing you

this way, shows my shame, my shame

and I’m not sharing them just with you

who might see?

and what if they don’t?