Mutable Cloud [poem] by Sue Swartz

Who among us hasn’t played the game

of naming that which we cannot touch

of supposing fibrous wisp to be torso /

tiger / palace shifting across pure palette

of sky / loneliness or love or pride

called out in thin disguise?

Who among us hasn’t held their atlas

close / bounded map of comings and goings

our compulsion to make haste inscribed

in mutable blue on every page?

Who hasn’t looked up / looked out

toward elsewhere waiting for a sign?

 

Image of 1930s Switchboard Operator

[Refer: This poem refers to Daniel Torday’s essay, “Road Atlas.”]

Sue Swartz is a writer, visual artist, social activist, Jewish communal leader, and all-around good egg living in Bloomington, Indiana. Her poetry and prose have appeared in Poetica, Cutthroat, Lilith, 5 a.m., Smartish Pace, and elsewhere.

Image by Domonic Alves