Scenario For a New Agenda
Sylvia Ashby
In my next incarnation
I will study the habits
of snails on certain rivers
in Southeastern Louisiana,
possibly the conversations
of gophers meeting in burrows
in a desert designation;
the appetites of caterpillars,
the polished bones of those camels
who came before the Mayflower and DAR
or the molars of a once-woolly mammoth--
something finite and achievable.
Graphs and charts will be my tools;
I will learn the architecture of numbers,
bask in the security of equations and proofs;
I will write summaries, abstracts, grant proposals
using incantations like Prioritize and Strategy.
I will conquer the microscope,
exploit bacteria,
design their choreography,
record their whispers,
note their constellations,
inspire a personal cult
on a culture slide.
I may fall in love,
have an intimate relationship
with a handsome though troubled computer,
create a sonnet sequence--
be love’s slave in the binary mode;
nevertheless I will be powerful,
I transist therefore I exist.
Incognito in my insect shades,
traveling under an assumed name
I tame lions,
flourishing my whip like a dervish lasso:
the lions thrust their jaw,
flick their claws,
leap to their platforms
dancing to the crack of leather;
threatening, baring their teeth, they roar;
nevertheless they adore me;
I am muscular--
lean and brown as an Apache.
In my next incarnation
I will not
collect recipes like postage stamps,
pull weeds, pay bills, be on time
or iron and mend
other people’s writing.
I will study the habits
of snails on certain rivers
in Southeastern Louisiana,
possibly the conversations
of gophers meeting in burrows
in a desert designation;
the appetites of caterpillars,
the polished bones of those camels
who came before the Mayflower and DAR
or the molars of a once-woolly mammoth--
something finite and achievable.
Graphs and charts will be my tools;
I will learn the architecture of numbers,
bask in the security of equations and proofs;
I will write summaries, abstracts, grant proposals
using incantations like Prioritize and Strategy.
I will conquer the microscope,
exploit bacteria,
design their choreography,
record their whispers,
note their constellations,
inspire a personal cult
on a culture slide.
I may fall in love,
have an intimate relationship
with a handsome though troubled computer,
create a sonnet sequence--
be love’s slave in the binary mode;
nevertheless I will be powerful,
I transist therefore I exist.
Incognito in my insect shades,
traveling under an assumed name
I tame lions,
flourishing my whip like a dervish lasso:
the lions thrust their jaw,
flick their claws,
leap to their platforms
dancing to the crack of leather;
threatening, baring their teeth, they roar;
nevertheless they adore me;
I am muscular--
lean and brown as an Apache.
In my next incarnation
I will not
collect recipes like postage stamps,
pull weeds, pay bills, be on time
or iron and mend
other people’s writing.
Listen to Sylvia read the poem here:
Working notes
This poem, or should I say fantasy, was written a while back. To update: I still collect recipes, no longer iron and mend--metaphorically or otherwise (except for my husband, and that’s strictly metaphorical). Last spring I discovered the wide world of lit mags, online and off. That’s when I started a scribbled “acceptance” list (on recycled paper, of course) on which I keep track of a handful of items, such as whether the editor of said publication was an M or an F. So far the F’s outnumber the M’s two to one, though none those poems was “feminist.” Draw your own conclusion.
About the author
Sylvia Ashby’s background is in theatre, acting, and writing; she’s published 15 plays for family audiences, with thousands of productions. After seeing her short memoir in Anderbo.com last March, she was prompted to send out poetry; now she has a few dozen pieces out or forthcoming. In 2014, her poems will be seen in Abyss & Apex, Hermes, Avatar, Muddy River, Veil, Subterranean, Frostwriting, Mezzo Cammin, etc.