Maureen Cosgrove
Lead Valentines
The time to act has come. Hand them in,
give them up, melt them down. The
massive smelting pot awaits. Another hour
simmers over. Great seething froths of
molten metals overflow. This brew will not
be cooling soon. Are you quite
sure you’re standing where the pelting rain
won’t get you wet? Know that when
you hear a clash and rumble, the
crashes won’t be thunder. Thick fog
fumbles the window. A view that was
see-through is now opaque. A fingertip
is fixed in place. A shooter’s standoff at high
noon. A reckoning mistake. Howling, the
living stand to claim the day-lit moon.
Loops of linking chains are being hung.
Formed from foraged arms. Suspended,
as a footbridge spans a breach. In
groups, the children stride. Hundreds at a
time. Stand back. Let them be—a singular-
ity. Outreaching outlived limits set by sky.
Editor’s Note: This poem is a Golden Shovel taking its end-words from “The Hour of Not Quite Rain,” by Micki Callen and Richie Furay, recorded by the American folk rock band Buffalo Springfield and appearing on their 1968 album Last Time Around. You can learn more about the Golden Shovel form here.
Maureen Cosgrove is writing a series of Golden Shovels using song lyrics as her source material. She is a also a collage-artist and a retired tap dance teacher. For the past five years she has hosted the Poetry Salon of Boston, a monthly meeting where an invited poet reads and participants share their own work.
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