Helsinki
An editor said never start a poem at a window,
so instead I’m looking at the door,
which is made of glass. We are to avoid rain,
too, but it streaks the pane in such delicious
patterns that I can’t help but pretend to be someone else
in a foreign city, perhaps Helsinki, sipping black coffee
with a mysterious woman younger than my daughter
(who also does not exist), whose interests
in me are purely literary, although she straightens
my collar with lingering, scented fingers. Garden
memories and birds must never populate our lines,
but corpses are fine, as are tube tops and bananas
and any combination thereof. I finish my coffee
and wander alone through cobblestone streets,
stepping over clichés when possible, kicking them
aside when my hip joint argues, or simply accepting
their useful limitations when nothing else works.
Unknown and lacking credentials, I shrug, go on
past the closed doors behind which unseen bodies
perform the most bizarre and sensual solo dances,
or not, and shadows cook sausages over fire
and the grease spattering onto the tiled counters
issues a fragrance that awakens neighborhood dogs
and maybe a dozing stall-keeper at the market
where cloudberries are sometimes found.
I know little of Finland, and less of myself,
and then there’s poetry, which remains a blank
frame, a frosted pane I’ll never truly unlatch.
* * *
My poem “Helsinki” was first published at Panoply. It was inspired in part by a Facebook thread on which editors commented on what caused them to instantly reject poems. One said beginning a poem at a window was cause for rejection. Hence the first line.
O at the Edges 
I love this Robert – the poet’s struggle with what is relevant, what is cliché – and at the bottom of it all, is not a search for fame, but for the self.
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Thanks, V.J. I learn much about the world, and myself, through poetry.
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Ditto. Welcome Robert.
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There have really been a few OMG moments!
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Lol. Yes.
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I loved every single word. I’m so glad you write poetry.
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Thank you very much. I don’t know how not to write poetry. It’s been a compulsion for a long time… 🙂
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I understand. I’ve been writing for 57 years.
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Oh, wow. My first day after a long dry spell to be reading posts and here is a poem I instantly remember as special … this time with your voice added! … delightful all over again. Given where I am, your closing “I know little of Finland, and less of myself, and then there’s poetry … a frosted pane I’ll never truly unlatch” feels like a reflection … reminder I’m not the only one unable to truly see through my own frosted panes (I’m finding layers of them!). Thank you for choosing this poem for this day’s post!
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Welcome back, Jazz. My personal panes often seem opaque… 🙂
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This poem resonated with me in so many ways. I love the inquiry around what makes a poem good and who decides, how are we to shape our words for ourselves, and does it matter how many others understand what we have written. I love that poetry can create a feeling that I don’t have words to explain. Thank you for this addition to my day. It was a delight.
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Thanks so much, Ali. I’m a bit of a contrarian, especially when it comes to writing. When someone says I shouldn’t do something, I’m compelled to do it. 🙂
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Good for you. That must be another reason like your poetry.
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