Monday, November 11, 2013

My show-stopper poem Pele - (Pele is a volcano in Hawaii)



Pelé
© Kyi May Kaung

So many years I lie
dormant but not dormant
alive not sleeping
rumbling at night deep down
my insides corroded
anger and gastric juices
nightmares, haunting.

I can stand no more
I erupt blow my top off
it’s like a bomb.
I belch rocks and fire and smoke
red hot fountain, summit of the
mountain, gone.

My blood liquid magma hot enough
to melt rock solid into liquid
flows down viscous my flanks
coagulating.  Cooling flowing slower
losing red angry glow – growing
grayer blacker – still I cover everything
in my path – waves of pleated porous
sponge, piled up folds – how comical to
see you run – ahead – fear gripped
while I hiccup gases, shower you with
ashes, you can hardly
run, faster than I go
no longer can you laugh – vainglorious

at my power – all the flowers, all the
prayers – the scented
water, are useless now
run – as fast as you
can
I engulf forever – your body empty mold
in my flow, my folds –
breadfruit in
stone oven – you lie preserved exactly as
you fell
destroy create
create destroy.  enfold remold.  Pelé her mate
flat footed
albatross, so different from
his legend
in the
Rime.

Into the sea I fall curlicues
of red hot glass, nature’s hand
abstract brooches, swirling ears
queries, paisley mangoes –
                                  Drip.

Water at once you try to put me out
I steam I sizzle —
still red hot inside crusty old outside
I dive still hot – explode under the surface
sequences – all my evil
gases spent I tumble down continental
shelves –

cover living coral living bone
break down into pebbles
black sand –

Never before have I seen
a black beach --
you lie white bodied
beached whale come up for
air
a breach
birth.  Don’t die, don’t die
don’t die on me, now –

the yellow tang fled the boiling
waters – return in droves
spawn over
me –

To the black sand you float
coconut, wave borne
wave foams – breaks
recedes –
you have your husk, your
insulation
your built in
float –
rat tail of your
insemination
residual-umbilical
points outward – horizontal
the Pacific from whence
you came –

Inside I know
you are hard nut to
crack – holding white flesh
small sweet interior
ocean – murmuring
sad stories
forever –

and inside your heart
porous, tasteless
   embryo of
   coconuts to
   come.

you root –
you grow into a tree
living off
of me –
your fronds catch the
breeze – you flower, you
fruit – drop more
coconuts
into
the sea.

How can black sand not love
the coconut tree?