Resonance

Sometimes the poem resonates

and the people nod and sigh. They say

mmm. They hear you and they feel

less alone. And you feel less alone

because you’ve shared something

that belonged to everyone. But then

there are other times--and you never

know which it will be--when the poem

doesn’t resonate. The lines about the pleasure

you derive from sniffing your own earwax,

which conjured for you a whole symphony

of pleasurable sense associations,

do not strike a chord. And all you hear

is silence. Crickets. You never felt

so alone. And what can you do but

scratch your head, scratch the lines,

scratch your ear and sniff your finger

for the residue you could have sworn

was redolent of something much deeper.

Flash Issue 16