A Poem by S.E. Ingraham

IT'S BEEN MY EXPERIENCE

It's been my experience
When the mantle smells
Like swamp-gas, it's time
To brew a pot of never

Wind the battery clock
And set it to snakes
In a basket or half past
Unpleasant children

Crank the pepper-mill
Past the scent of jackboots
Or being locked up in a jar
By now the tea should taste

Like forever and the mantle
Will be starting to sway
It will be past time to seize
A pocket level which will feel

Very much like nothing
Worth knowing, life
In prison, or a stack
Of quilted lies

Or, might I suggest
Instead you take
The powder brush -
The one giggling there

By the clock - but hurry
- if it coughs or worse,
Sneezes, it will vanish
On you -

For by now, the mantle
Shall sound like a waterfall
That really tall one
In South America -

And the level well - it will be
Old news, the tea will be dirt
The clock a cow and ...
It's been my experience


S.E.Ingraham lives and writes in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada - a city not-so-jokingly referred to as being on the lip of the Arctic Circle. She shares space with the love of her life, a retired survey-engineer, as well as a supremely loyal wolf/border-collie. For the past two summers, she's been lucky enough to spend time with a group of crypt-kickers (aka: archaeological students) in a tiny town in southern Italy, in the shadow of a dormant volcano. She believes this is greatly influencing everything she writes. More of her work may be viewed here: http://leapinelephants.blogspot.ca/