Today’s new word:
yapok n. a semi-aquatic opossum of Central and South America also known as the water opossum. The only living marsupial in which both sexes have pouches.
Write a poem that meditates, from a position of tranquility, on an emotion you have felt powerfully.
For today’s prompt, take the phrase “(blank) Again,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write your poem.
In search of new knowledge,
my perpetual motion,
ambushed by yapok.
A disconcerting combination
of water and land,
of fingered and webbed,
of cute and horrifying.
I contemplate forewarning.
But I am not a gate keeper.
Who am I to impair the stun
of this captivating truth?
Once known, yapoks cannot be unknown,
once seen not unseen,
once imagined, forever a menacing possibility.
I am bewitched by potential,
spellbound by the shiny new tidbits of discovery,
and plunge into inquiry enchanted.
I contemplate a flustering illustration
of its thick tail tightly constricting a branch,
a bewildered bird in its mouth.
I ponder another unsettling engraving
in which it crawls ashore with a discombobulated fish.
In my image it circles you as you work your stoke
like a Labrador preparing a rescue.
In my depiction it perches on your shoulder;
its tail crawls into a coil on your arm;
it gorges on your harrowed head.
Today I am aware of the yapok,
surprised by its revelation,
alarmed by swimming teeth and tails,
mesmerized by adaptation.
I am under the spell of spelling.
Five letters ordered to an unexpected meaning,
leaving me fazed.
Today’s poetry book for inspiration is The Pushcart Book of Poetry: The Best Poems from Three Decades of the Pushcart Prize by Joan Murray (2009-04-03).