This poem was inspired by Elizabeth Bradfield’s article on Maria Nazos’s “Cape Cod Pantoum” [“Afloat at Land’s End,” Oct. 6, page C8]. There is so much right about using this poetic form to tell our stories. I thank my mentors: Kate, Rosalind, and Margaret.
Provincetown Pantoum
Here, lives our small stage in a cosmic theater. Commercial Street is center stage,
a well-worn runway, a gathering spot witnesses small dramas — absurd
daily life. Yes, life is the play. Over and over again we (re)turn the page.
We do not know each other’s name; we may never speak a word.
The well-worn runway, a gathering spot witnesses small dramas, absurd
behind the scenes. Ordinary mornings in the Post Office we sort our mail.
We may not know each other’s name; we may never speak a word.
As you pass me in Stop & Shop, I glance in your grocery cart, detail.
Behind the scenes, ordinary mornings in the Post Office we sort our mail,
you walk at Herring Cove, attend PAAM’s art openings alone.
And as you pass me in Stop & Shop, I glance in your grocery cart, detail.
You always sit in the back row at town meeting, unknown.
I walk at Herring Cove, attend PAAM’s art openings alone.
I’m a proud washashore, since 1983, living in the Light.
I always sit in the back row at town meeting — microphone.
Repeated over time, a strange intimacy afar recites.
I’m a proud washashore, since 1983, living in the Light.
People come forever in a day, surprised by their dream: I Want to Be Here.
Repeating over time, a strange intimacy afar recites,
connecting in the spirit of the living Light: We Want to Be Here.
People come forever in a day, surprised by their dream: I Want to Be Here.
Daily life is the play. Over and over again, we (re)turn the page
connecting in the spirit of the living Light We Want to Be Here.
In a cosmic theater, here, lives our small stage.
