Transduced Ruin
From bad to worse.
The hospital’s walls, shredded.
A turning back, the retrieval.
Frayed edges, unraveling, pulled down.
Conveyance and change, or, conversion.
Tying the knot, I think of home.
Things fallen apart.
She stands alone under the sky’s umbrella.
“Destroy infrastructure, destroy livelihood. Destroy.”
Water leaking from the cistern’s wounds.
Wind to voltage; passive to active.
My church is the sky, the earth below, and everything between.
The center of one, of two.
Rounds, piercing armor.
A spiritual hole, leakage.
“It was easier to view them as targets, not human.”
Sequences: from water to ice, to vapor and back again.
I will surrender to flame and be scattered.
Firewing, starbolt, tearmaker.
Guided from afar, they sense but cannot feel.
Recursive death.
Counting graves, he considers relief.
The road to everywhere.
Looking back, I discover that I had already arrived.
* * *
I’d forgotten about “Transduced Ruin,” which was written during the August 2016 Tupelo Press 30/30 Project, a fundraiser for the non-profit literary publisher, Tupelo Press. I am grateful to Atomic Geography, who sponsored the poem and provided the title and these three words: spiritual, sequences, things.
O at the Edges 
A poem that deserves not to be forgotten, although I too had had forgotten it. “Recursive death.” followed by “Looking back, I discover that I had already arrived.” really brings it home.
For historical interest, my word suggestions were the last line of my poem “Lines From Post #74 (Part 1)” https://atomicgeography.com/post-74-2/lines-from-post-74-part-1/ . The title suggestion was from a line in the poem “form is transduced ruin”.
I am pleased that our two poems continue to constitute a kind of recursive energy transduction. Thanks for that.
bob
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Thanks, Bob. I, too, am pleased that the poems are continuing their entwined paths!
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And there I was on your poem, “The Gift,” commenting how you rarely have disturbing poems; this one has the same caustic air of inevitability with an extra layer of oppression limned therein. [D’Oh, on my earlier conclusion.] Anyway, this is another impressive-expressive jewel in the tiara of your stunning poetry, Bob. In other realms, hope your writing-week and life-week are wonderful!
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Ha! But they were written in separate years. 🙂
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