"fountain" named Poem of the Week

"fountain" which first appeared in wordcurrents on March 16, and was redrafted and posted on April 12 in a new version in WILD Poetry Forum, has been selected as Poem of the Week for the week of April 14 in Wild. The version of the text posted in Wild is different, and appears below. Here follows the text of the proclamation at Wild, posted yesterday.

Please join the administration, staff, members, and guests of WPF in congratulating Douglas Hill on the selection of his poem "fountain" as Poem of the Week. You may follow this link to the Hall of Fame to familiarize yourself with Douglas' work. What most appealed to us about Douglas' poem is his very unusual choice of subject matter and the fine craftsmanship of this poem. Douglas gives us many strong images to visualize and with this poem, proves that any subject matter can be poetic in the right hands. The final line is both touching and evocative. Thanks for sharing this one here with us Douglas. We appreciate the chance to recognize such an excellent poem.

Our Honorable Mentions have quite a variety of subject matter to offer you as well. In no particular order, they are:

"Monarchs" by Sarah Sloat
"A Dear John Letter to Zeus from Hera" by Brenda Morisse
"Restless" by Laura Ring
"Horse in the Yard " by M. Kathryn Black

What an excellent line-up of talented authors and we count ourselves very lucky to have their work gracing our forum. Our thanks to all of them and all of you!

Fountain

I spiral down the spit-fountain
in my father’s dental boutique:
stare into the circular drain,
spitting, hoping it is almost over,
his gentle hands wielding mysteries
of pain and precision and finally relief.

Now, leaning back in a hard barbershop chair,
I wonder if the same company made
both scrolled fantasies of wrought iron
and black leatherette—a place to fix
your hair your teeth your smile.

The mortar sang a soft tuneless rhythm as he
deftly urged it against the pestle, mixing
the silver-mercury amalgam I would years later
pay to have replaced by less poisonous acrylic, then
we would share a moment of bonding closer
more intimate than anything else in our lives:
his soft warm fingers in my mouth.

"the geology of snow"

I wrote this poem, "the geology of snow" in wordcurrents after a few days of observing the ugly remainder of winter, which is best understood, if you have not observed such snow, by looking at these photos:







I have been trying to publish these with the poem, but the Gallery feature of the new version of WordPress is not working for me.