Over at dVerse, the challenge is to write a poem inspired by or incorporating the geography of a place. This poem, I think, fits that description. It also addresses the presence of previous occupants of the place and of course the geography and topography of the character’s head! Please visit dVerse and Check out Anmol’s interesting and erudite post on the subject.
The Sun God
Myron volunteered once
as a caretaker on an island
in the middle of a lake
in the High Andes
North of Puno,
the Altiplano.
The top of the island
was as flat as an anvil
and every day
he would climb up there
from his lake side cottage
to study the funerary towers
of Silustani
over on the mainland,
using his large binoculars.
It was never quite clear to Myron
what exactly he was taking care of.
He had a house,
a dread-locked alpaca
and three guinea pigs.
The guinea pigs were housed in a wired compound,
inside the compound was a miniature mud hut
with a thatched roof
and three open doorways
which the guinea pigs retreated through
every time he approached.
He thought,
perhaps he was supposed to eat the guinea pigs
it was clear that they thought this also.
Located close to the funerary towers
were the remains of an Inca temple
worshipping the Sun God,
at that time in his life
Myron was losing faith in atheism
and the Inca worship of the sun god
had a certain logic to it.
Without the sun where are we?
Where are we, indeed!
He wasn’t overly keen on human sacrifice
but he had to admit that the Incas
dealt with the blood well,
channels and drainage being an Inca thing,
knowledge they acquired along the way.
Subjugate, assimilate,
and so it goes forever.
Myron thought he would use this time to write
but mostly he sat looking at a blank page
listening to the tinnitus in his left ear roar
and in the absence of his fellow human beings
he began to think that the alpaca was judging him,
the way it stared at him from under its matted fringe
and down its long nose.
One night he found himself shouting abuse at the alpaca.
The next day he left for Puno
and got drunk on gassy lager
in a pizzeria on the ragged, dusty town square
not far from the shores of Lake Titicaca.
This poem was previously published in The Galway Review.
I can see it now…thanks for reminding about that dang tinnitus in my left ear. 😒
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This was charming Jim, just a bit over the edge, but wonderfully so!
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Thanks Rob, I’m never quite sure where the edge is! Hope you are doing well….JIM
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Humans need each other, no matter how much of a pain in the ass they can be at times. Glad he/you decided to head for town. Very engaging poem.
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That is very true……isolation is not good, thanks for reading, JIM
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You are very welcome.
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Such an intriguing narration — I love the setting and the mood and how every single detail contributes to the overall richness of this experience and understanding. I can certainly think of the alpaca judging anyone in the vicinity. A wonderful read! 🙂
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Thank you Anmol, I always enjoy your challenges!
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Myron’s saga held my interest and gave an occasional smile. My tinnitus is in both ears. Perhaps I shall try some gassy lager?
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Never drink gassy lager, Beverly, unless there is no other choice. Best remedy for tinnitus is a pint of Guinness in a loud pub, it won’t cure it but you won’t be able to hear it!
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I feel this could be titled “How to fail at being a hermit”… maybe he should have eaten the guinea pigs instead.
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Ha! Good suggestion!
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Right at the moment a bit of sun worship seems very attractive. I can think of some humans who could be sacrificed, too.
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Surely you couldn’t be thinking of members of parliament !!
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I couldn’t possibly confirm or deny that statement.
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This is wonderful with its balance of landscape and mind. The animals gave me a chuckle.
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Thank you, much appreciated.
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Sometimes we are too much with ourselves. (K)
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Yes, indeeed.
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I felt like I was watching a little movie in my head while reading this. Poor Myron–I hope he went on to something better. (But I’m glad he didn’t eat the guinea pigs.) 🙂
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Glad you liked it!
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