Ansley Clark

The old spirits    I like to keep
trailing and cape-like    most

of them harmless    I find most   
tragic    like prophecies of worry

what abundance is    available I must
take into my mouth    must peer into

sealed little holes in the ice    revealing
schools of milky creatures    though I fear   

scarcity    the soft nighttime amusement                              
of the universe    which allows the spirits   

which tells them    to hum   
their night tents    which swing.




Inspiration for this poem initially came from a trip to Budapest. I travelled there alone and spent long periods of time wandering around by myself, feeling lonely and thinking. My family is from Hungary, and so I was contemplating ancestry: what kinds of things do we inherit/receive from our ancestors, what kinds of things do not actually belong to us.