Sunday, August 7, 2011

The Globe

Here are borders defined
By blocks of color out of date
By the time it comes to stand
On my desk, tilted like the head
Of a puzzled child, whose fingertips
Trace the ridges and spin it round
And round. Where am I? Here
Is a slew of names, too big to pinpoint
On a too small space though old men's eyes
Squint to find some city they visited long ago
Before the wars upended this globe as if
It held glittered water you shake and shake.
From here to there. I crossed this ocean,
Straddled this line, and ever so often try
To wrap my tongue around this world of a word

Called Home.
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In answer to another challenge to list an ordinary object, its functions and a summary statement.

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