Camille T. Dungy
United States
Camille T. Dungy
The insanity of war and the fragility of life, age-old subject matter that can only be reinvigorated by poet of great skill and sincere intent, both of which this poet reveals in this poem. Not only is she painting the picture for us, but highlights the truth - that none can claim ‘we never knew’...not in our world that makes big business selling the tragedies and crimes of war via all available media channels often using crude and graphic means to get out attention. Often enough artists are the only ones we can be authentically moved by, emotionally and literally into action! In this poem the war is not happening ‘somewhere out there’ but is right here. Poem recording courtesy of From the Fishouse poems.
BIOGRAPHY
Camille T. Dungy is author of Suck on the Marrow (Red Hen Press, 2010) and What to Eat, What to D More >
Daisy Cutter
Pause here at the flower stand—mums
and gladiolas, purple carnations
dark as my heart. We are engaged
in a war, and I want to drag home
any distraction I can carry. Tonight
children will wake to bouquets of fire
that will take their breath away. Still,
I think of my life. The way you hold me,
sometimes, you could choke me.
There is no way to protect myself,
except by some brilliant defense. I want
the black iris with their sabered blooms.
I want the flame throwers: the peonies,
the sunflowers. I will cut down the beautiful ones
and let their nectared sweetness bleed
into the careless air. This is not the world
I’d hoped it could be. It is horrible,
the way we carry on. Last night, you catalogued
our arsenal. You taught me devastation
is a goal we announce in a celebration
of shrapnel. Our bombs shower
in anticipation of their marks. You said this
is to assure damage will be widely distributed.
What gruesome genius invents our brutal hearts?
When you touch me I am a stalk of green panic
and desire. Wait here while I decide which
of these sprigs of blossoming heartbreak I can afford
to bring into my home. Tonight dreams will erupt
in chaotic buds of flame. This is the world we have
arranged. It is horrible, this way we carry on.
from Smith Blue (Southern Illinois University Press, July 2011)
