A Poem

Stay with it; the payoff is pretty interesting.

Of Says His

Three words. He can’t get them out of his head:
“of says his.” Those are the words, but those aren’t
the words. Something is not right—the order.
“His says of.” No, the other order was
better, closer somehow. “Of says his.” This
order is right, but it doesn’t make sense.
He decides to take a break, think new words:
“At ten, I shall shun the edifice.” Yes,
but what does it mean? The edifice is
clearly a symbol, representative
of some other word, some other concept.
Edifice (of says his) is a building.
Building what? This is a construction, but
what are the materials, the foundation?
How large is this, and how solid? But these
thoughts are somehow also wrong, straying from
what he is trying to grasp, which is what?
“Of says his.” This is the key. This order.
And “at ten I shall shun the edifice”
is also this order. He can’t let go
of these thoughts. It is like a compulsion.
Yes! That’s it! “Compulsion.” It still doesn’t
make sense, but it seems to fit together:
“Of says his.” “Compulsion.” “At ten I shun
the edifice.” This order. This order.
“Of says his compulsion. At ten shun the
edifice.” This order. Yes. “Of says his
compulsion. A tension, the visit.” This
order. “Of says his compulsive. Tension
deaf visit.” This order. Yes. “Of-says-his
compulsive a-tension deaf-visit this-
order.” He is very close to it now.

- Kelly Talbot, Beloit Poetry Journal, Vol. 56 No. 4, Summer 2006