A Poem by Helen Hofling
Author: Poetry Editor
February 13, 2019
This week, a poem by Helen Hofling.
A flower fell out.
A cucumber sliced me.
An idle thought longed for structure.
I was just watching television,
trying to split my attention.
I was listening to the people outside,
trying to feel less diffuse.
I spoke another language.
One that I never learned.
I tasted something new and it changed me.
Watercolors made me sick.
I was just looking for a little culture.
I thought pastels and bleed would give me
the distraction that my particles need.
The salad was fresh in its bowl.
It revived me after my journey.
The people I met were not what I thought they would be.
Who calls boundlessness a good thing.
Who eats petals who eats wasps who eats doves.
HELEN HOFLING is a Baltimore-based writer, editor, and collage-maker. Her recent work can be found in Barrow Street, Berkeley Poetry Review, The Columbia Review, Electric Literature, Hobart, Prelude, and elsewhere. She is a member of the PEN Prison Writing project’s poetry committee and teaches writing at Loyola University Maryland.