Jaime Brunton

Tall Grass Waving

There is a problem of travel. A problem of speech, speaking, language, and music. There is a problem of experiment, fail, and plan. A problem of sight. Of seeing people who are no longer there. There is a problem of wishing and trying. Of trying more. A problem of action where none is wanted. A problem of stillness where things are getting away. Cues and direction. If there is a gun, it should go off. If these are lovers, they should part or kiss. A problem. Of editing, sending, and receiving. A problem of punctuation but not of spelling. Pronunciation, too, is a non-issue. Having solved the problem of transport, the buses round the corner. Still there is a problem of motion, which we have touched on already. If there is a problem of contact, some of them are unaware. There is a problem of contact. Bang. There is a problem of parting. Probably, this is the major one. Tall grass, for instance, waving silently while the water calls and calls. There is a problem of miracles not happening and of fate easily observed. There is a problem of wanting. Mostly, there is a problem of not knowing. Of fear. Of making no sound. There is a problem of not knowing how, and of parting. This is the major one, the one most easily observed.

Jaime Brunton’s poems appear in Mid-American Review, The Cincinnati Review, DIAGRAM, and elsewhere. She was a semifinalist for the Walt Whitman Award and the Brittingham and Pollak Poetry Prizes, and a finalist for the Four Way Books Intro and Levis Prizes. Brunton was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2010.
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    Ernest O. Ògúnyẹmí