Today's poem on the Tattooed Poets Project is courtesy of Amber Clark:
and how amazing the names of ex lovers on the tongue
how lovely and sardonic their lull, the names of all the towns
you slept through on your way to somewhere else
how sweeping the names of lost things, unremembered names,
tucked in a botanist's notebook - calyx and clover and pistil - how sweet
the sound of a gun cocked back and the rooster at dawn, and the thistle
how stunning the names of accuracy, of Euclid's quadratic, economy, elusive hintsto crave the wild, delicious names - éclair and brie and fig -
of anatomy, uvulas swinging the foreign name - a wind its certain welt, the sting
of a nematocyst, the telson and the carapace
the music of the treble clef and tremble of an aural math, the sprig
of spring come clean again, the cochlea gone mad
(- first published in Pebble Lake Review Winter 2010 Issue)
Be sure to head over to Tattoosday and see Amber's poetry-inspired tattoo here.
Amber Clark teaches English and literature at Northwest Florida State College as well as Gulf Coast Community College. She reads for Tin House, and she will be guest judging the Scratch Poetry Contest in June 2010. While most of her own work can still be found on napkins and matchbooks, in personal journals and private word docs, and on the windshields of friends' and lovers' cars, most recently, her work can also be found in Pebble Lake Review, SandScript, Slow Trains, Underground Window, and Poetry365. A graduate of The College of William & Mary and The Radcliffe Publishing Institute at the Center for Advanced Study at Harvard, she also holds a MFA in Creative Writing from Queens University at Charlotte.