Three Poems by John Rodzvilla

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Molten Prayer

Fighting: a molten prayer to God.

In these petty days,
The roots of man sit exposed—
There was a rot deep in the Earth
Beneath where nematodes suck feeder roots,
Below where the Kin are lusting,
Down where the lost listen for any sound.
It is now revealed: soft and melting.

It was the cavemen, after all,
with lusty axe and early stone
who had the future writ on
their muscles as they climbed
the branches to listen
When the seas sang.

Booneville

I know a spot where
verdant banks of Otter
build crystal water.

Booneville!

Light canoes duffle
along its dotted forests.

Am I to go into camp with him?
Blessed clear waters!

I guess my
son is no
canoe genius.
I’ll stay in
the kayak.

Ripples in the Lake

The spot above the crystal where
The jay makes her nest
of water beeches.
The trees statuesque in
glassy pools
of still light.
Going wild.
me at ten writing canoes serve
make cover, canoes swerve
make land.
Done?

Canoes have canoes.

Canoe is her maker,
he knew.
Now I turn,
an old expert,
canoeing. Soon
drowned.

 

John Rodzvilla teaches in the Publishing and Writing programs at Emerson College in Boston. His work has appeared in Harvard Review, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, gorse, DecomP, Verbatim and Bad Robot Poetry.

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