Poetry Matters Hits the Road: A Superbloom in Neon
By Heather Lang-Cassera
In the earlier months of the pandemic, I found myself irresistibly drawn to writing pantoums. The second and fourth line of each stanza were repeated as the first and third of the following quatrain. The last line of each poem was the same as the first. At the time, I did not understand my fascination with the form, especially its cyclical spirit, but looking back, my fixation makes sense. As I sheltered in place, pantoums reflected the repetitive nature of my pandemic life. I yearned to find subtle variations, to discover the meaning in my days.
Pantoums became a way to ruminate on even the most mundane, such as the recurring pattern of our home’s décor. These poems also allowed me to explore how 2020 had become a figurative winter as we sheltered in place. Moreover, I expressed my gratitude for my husband; I had someone gentle and kind with whom I could hibernate.
Hope
These dovetails lift
from the kitchen floor
where perfect angles of tile
wait beyond this cusp of night.
From the kitchen floor,
slender feet become porcelain.
Wait. Beyond this cusp of night,
we cannot run with these
slender feet. Become porcelain,
O heart, in this delicate winter.
We cannot run with these
snow-topped silhouettes,
O heart. In this delicate winter,
wrists have tangled together—
snow-topped silhouettes,
these dovetails, lift.
At the time, I did not know that the easing of the pandemic, a metaphorical spring, would not come for over a year. Furthermore, I never could have known that the budding of hope would arrive through a different cycle of poetry: over two dozen Nevada poets’ poems looping in brilliant lights. A digital billboard poetry truck spread stanzas throughout our Las Vegas Valley, including the words of Angela M. Brommel:
Fuchsia hibiscus:
a young hummingbird flitting—
one bloom to another.
The moment I read this exquisite haiku, paired with a breathtaking backdrop of flowering prickly pears by Bobbie Ann Howell, a newborn hope unfolded inside me.
I can feel the reemergence of our community. I experience gratitude for the socially distanced ways we have connected—writing brilliantly unraveling collaborative verse, creating zines from eclectic curbside kits, sharing brave new works at online open mics, etc. It is perhaps especially because of our collective resilience that joy brims within my messy heart. Poems have emerged from a darkness in neon lights, a symbolic sprout of profound promise. Slowly and safely, we will again begin to gather together, face to face, as a superbloom of desert flowers.
Double Down Blogger Image/Michael Cassera.
Heather Lang-Cassera curated Poetry Matters Hits the Road. She serves as Clark County Nevada’s Poet Laureate, is a founder and Editor for Tolsun Books, the World Literature Editor for The Literary Review, a Faculty Advisor for 300 Days of Sun, and a Lecturer for Nevada State College. Lang-Cassera’s next collection of poems, Gathering Broken Light, is forthcoming in September with Unsolicited Press.
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