San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly

LAURA BROWN
Force Between, No. 2

Between the act of creation

and the intent

is inertia, yanking things strongly

to a standstill.

An unseen hand

grips tenaciously under stationary currents.

Who can turn upstream like visceral fish,

juxtapose will for nature, spur sagging flesh,

quash downrushing habit?

Who can arc, strain,

unhook mouths, as forces reel and pull?

Inertia gathers.

Frog-potted, we bide our time --

Wait to leap from tepid waters.

At first venture, hidden eddies trap.

Sidelined against pitiless swirls,

struggles ebb. Drained, sucked in,

we settle to the bottom, bones.

Humus, sediment, earth, rock.

Gradually harden, impervious.

The force rolls on,

always inexorably on.