IFFY FICTION

I wrote this poem in 2019 during one of my teaching certification classes at UT. The intention was for pre-service teachers to experience different types of assignments as their future students would.

Being me, I made a turn into darkness.

The style of poem is called a sestina, “a complex French verse form, usually unrhymed, consisting of six stanzas of six lines each and a three-line envoy. ” I enjoy the structure of it. Sometimes having rules to follow forces me to be creative in ways I might not have been otherwise.

I’ve included the end word pattern to the right of the poem.

Enjoy!

The first handful of dirt
Is cast into the yawning earth.
Murmuring platitudes of death,
Pale lips say “I’m sorry.”
The time is past for wishes.
We are all eaten by the light.

They say that hurt is a light
Thing, more so than coffin, shovel, dirt
Snuffed flames, dead wishes
Heavier still than the Earth
And her troubles. I’m sorry,
But have you held the dark matter of death?

More than myth, Death,
Hooded, brings his own light
Never hesitant, never sorry
His hand crumbles clay into dirt
Gives back unto the earth
What is Earth’s. Respect her wishes.

Dark granter of wishes,
When wishes groan for death.
The moaning throngs of Earth
Sprint toward you, toward the light,
Through six fecund feet of dirt.
A chicken-scratched, “I’m sorry.”

But I digress, I’m sorry
I must address your wishes.
Yes, it’s true, the living become dirt
Making new life from death.
The rain, the wind, the light
All summon magic from the earth.

But such is life on earth
Birthing, killing, never sorry
Never-ending. I’m sorry to make light
Of your daft, immortal wishes.
The fate of sweetest breath is death
This evening’s lily, tomorrow’s dirt.

So as the light fades over Earth
Inky seas, black dirt, I’m sorry
To say, your wishes can never outrun Death.

1 2 3 4 5 6
6 1 5 2 4 3
3 6 4 1 2 5
5 3 2 6 1 4
4 5 1 3 6 2
2 4 6 5 3 1
(6 2) (1 4) (5 3)