Amy S.F. Lutz

This prose poem is from my collection-in-progress, Horseshoes and Hand Grenades. The expression, "'Almost' only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades," suggests that the gap between "almost" and "definitely," though it may seem slight, is virtually insurmountable, and many of my poems explore this distance between what is expected or desired and what is real. In "Lines Written By The Shore Of Griffy Lake," a polluted lake becomes a mythic river and a beachcomber becomes a legendary writer. Other pieces aren't so placid, since acknowledging this gap often creates a discomfort that isn't easily resolved. In one, the narrator admits that her husband left a "beautiful nymphomaniac" for her; in another, a sick man waits for a cure yet to be discovered. The prose poem is ideally suited to explore this tension, as it is itself situated in a no-man's-land between poem and story, constantly negotiating the characteristic elements of both genres: imagery, rhythm and narrative.
 

LINES WRITTEN BY THE SHORE OF GRIFFY LAKE,
11 SEPTEMBER 1996

Anyone could walk on this water; the power plant heats the lake so only algae grows. Still we
keep our backs to the parking lot and pretend we're Wordsworth and Coleridge, sprawling
on the banks of the Wye. We fight over who has to be Coleridge - no one wants to spend an
entire life longing for an impossible lover. "You believe in divorce. Things would have turned
out differently," you say. You're trying to convince me. You pass me graham crackers in a wax
sleeve and call it opium. I watch an old man pass a metal detector over the gravel. He takes
one step at a time; there is so much ground to cover. "There's Coleridge," I say. He wears a
tool belt with a spade and a small pick and other necessaries; he is committed to this search
for everything that's been lost. You agree to compromise. This is why we've been friends
for so long - you don't insist on always getting your own way.When Coleridge passes our
blanket, you ask him what he's found. He stops, his fingers working in his pocket. He says,
"I'm happy you asked."