Penicillin for Lexical Laryngitis

I cannot write. Though I see

the permutations of sunlight I feel

only the weight of my shivering

mind.

Let us make a boat then,

a canoe. Loosed from its mooring,

it drifts downriver, lurches

here and there, drawn by eddies,

jostled by rocks, rocked by currents.

If painted by van Gogh the green river

would play-act a bunched carpet of turf.

Monet would make its colors

swim like rainbow trout.

Magritte would vanish the river and let

the canoe stroll on earthbound sky.

We have permission to imagine it

however we choose.

Then let it be a river in Central America

so that it may have a gorgeous name,

say, the Rio Grande de Matagalpa.

Let our canoe drift through the highlands

along the Darien and Huapi mountains

into the lowland rainforest.

But It is too quiet now. There is no life in our

painting. Let the trees be filled with

insects and birds, let their discordant

choir accompany our canoe as it

vagabonds down the Matagalpa.

A Zimbabweyan juju man hears the choir,

eyes the canoe. He is baffled. He does

not belong here. He scoops water in

his hands, sees tiny creatures scurryswim

away, splashes the water on his face.

(But this is silly. Why bother the juju man.)

We leave him, curious, unafraid, watching

our canoe, wondering if he should swim to it

but choosing to squat on the bank and let it pass.

A mile away, our canoe swirls to shore and catches

in a dam of fallen limbs beneath a tree branch.

On the branch a kinkajou sleeps.

(I call her kinkajou but you may know her as

cat-monkey)

Let's wake her up. The nose of our canoe is trapped

in the sticks of the makeweight dam, but the river

rolls the stern against a hollow rock.

Back and again the wavelash drums our canoe

against the rock. First softly then

with gathering force the drumbeat grows.

The cat-monkey rouses. Agitated. Perturbed.

She screams. She screams a woman's scream.

Fantastic and freakish she screams like a woman.

Upstream the juju man is startled.

Goosebumps dance on the back of his neck.

Donny Davis, September, 2007