Mark Strand - The Tunnel

[dferahgo.livejournal.com]

A man has been standing
in front of my house
for days. I peek at him
from the living room
window and at night,
unable to sleep,
I shine my flashlight
down on the lawn.
He is always there.

After a while
I open the front door
just a crack and order
him out of my yard.
He narrows his eyes
and moans. I slam
the door and dash back
to the kitchen, then up
to the bedroom, then down.

I weep like a schoolgirl
and make obscene gestures
through the window. I
write large suicide notes
and place them so he
can read them easily.
I destroy the living
room furniture to prove
I own nothing of value.

When he seems unmoved
I decide to dig a tunnel
to a neighboring yard.
I seal the basement off
from the upstairs with
a brick wall. I dig hard
and in no time the tunnel
is done. Leaving my pick
and shovel below,

I come out in front of a house
and stand there too tired to
move or even speak, hoping
someone will help me.
I feel I'm being watched
and sometimes I hear
a man's voice,
but nothing is done
and I have been waiting for days.

Comments

[oheunoia.livejournal.com]

awesome.

[dferahgo.livejournal.com]

Glad you enjoyed it. ^^

[greenstorm.livejournal.com]

It's so true!

[dferahgo.livejournal.com]

What aspect of it? (I only ask because we analyzed it; I'm curious what rings true with you.)

[greenstorm.livejournal.com]

Oh, the... tangle of self-perpetuating misunderstanding is exactly what life is like.

[pyrric.livejournal.com]

This is one of my favorite Mark Strand poems. Thanks for posting it--it's always a delight to read it again.

[dferahgo.livejournal.com]

I'm just starting to get into his work, but I'm sure he's about to become one of my favorites.

Whose eyes are those in your LJ icon? Looks like an actress I like.

[pyrric.livejournal.com]

I think _Dark Harbor_ is my favorite collection of his.

Those are my eyes!

[dferahgo.livejournal.com]

Hey, you should post it! *grins*

You have very pretty eyes.

[pyrric.livejournal.com]

Post the whole book? My fingers would get tired. (A friend is borrowing my copy of it right now; when I get it back, I'll post a poem or two.)

And thank you!