not a problem to be solved

Sometimes yeti clans appear
in the yellow-white spheres

of my headlights when I pull
into the driveway,

faces dilated, they are paralyzed
in the halogen glow, the bulk

of their hirsute bodies creased
forward, poised to jump.

I leave the engine idling,
wait to see what they’ll do

if I hold them frozen in my beams,
plastic bags, clenched in their fists,

full of discarded pizza slices
and apple cores picked

from the garbage can on the side
of the house. One might reach

a hand into the bag, sneak a bite
of food to her mouth, chomp

down on cold, tough pizza
with a faraway look in her eyes.

Then they sashay in pairs
toward the shadows, a nonchalant

do-se-do to places I’ve never visited,
to the caves and hollows where yetis

dwell when no one is looking.

8

8

8

The prompt from last week at read write poem is about dinosaurs and monsters.

*Yeti, 1937, from the Tibetan; a small humanoid creature said to live somewhere in the Himalayas.

Published by Christine

Christine Swint’s poems have appeared in Calyx, Birmingham Poetry Review, Slant, a Journal of Poetry, Tampa Review, Heron Tree, Ekphrasis, and others. Her poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Best New Poets, and she has won first place prizes from the Georgia Poetry Society and Agnes Scott College. Her first collection, Swimming This, was published in 2015 by FutureCycle Press. She teaches first-year composition at a metro-Atlanta university and writes about poetry, art, hiking, and yoga at Balanced on the Edge, https://balancedonedge.blog Twitter @christine_swint

12 thoughts on “not a problem to be solved”

  1. jillypoet says:
    Reply

    One of my favorite Backyardigans (your kids are probably too old for this show) episodes is about looking for the yetis! We call out to the yetis when we go on hikes. So, I immediately was drawn in to this poem. I love the image of them in your headlights. This is great magial realism! It leaves a vivid picture in my mind that I will revisit the next time I pull in my driveway.

    Like

  3. durable pigments says:
    Reply

    Happy New Website to you! 🙂 This is a great piece: disorienting and familiar, weird and wonderful. Provoking a flutter of interpretation and puzzle-solving–are the yeti raccoons, neighborhood kids, actual yeti?–and I love that uncertainty, the mystery and intrigue here. I particularly love that the yeti you lock eyes with, eating old pizza with a faraway look in her eyes, is female, which provokes another flurry of possible interpretations–are the yeti our shadow selves, the lives we could have led? Is this yeti another you? Really, really nice. The title is excellent, too–my favorite sort of title, that adds another dimension to the piece, and does a lot of the work of the poem.

    Like

  4. deb says:
    Reply

    I love your new site.

    And I love that you took yetis and brought them “home”. Intriguing. Great scene and concept. And words. “faces dilated” is my favorite in a whole string.

    Like

  5. Jo says:
    Reply

    Ha, there’s no flies on me. You’re already in my googleyreader and I’ve changed my links over at florescence. I’ll go do our ouroboros blog too (hey, how cool, I never noticed before it starts with the word our, how appropriate *grin*).

    Like

  6. Nathan says:
    Reply

    I love new place. That header is fantastic. This poem has a great title and I love the pay you manipulate sound in lines like “sashay in pairs toward the shadows.”

    Like

  8. rick says:
    Reply

    Hey! I didn’t know you were doing this! I like it here. And ouroboros is up and running? I’ll go look for it. I’ve been moving too fast for months. (too busy, too scattered.)

    Like

  9. christine says:
    Reply

    Wow, so many visits from friends already! Thanks everyone.

    Rick, this is a new, somewhat spur of the moment idea. Ouroboros is still under construction. The link you see is only to the blog.

    Like

Leave a comment