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220th Virtual Poetry Circle

Welcome to the 220th Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s books suggested. Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2013 Dive Into Poetry Challenge because its simple; you only need to read 1 book of poetry. Check out the stops on the 2013 National Poetry Month Blog Tour and the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.

Today’s poem is from Matt Rasmussen from Black Aperture:

Chekhov's Gun (page 22)

Nothing ever absolutely has to happen. The gun
doesn't have to be fired. When our hero sits

on the edge of his bed contemplating the pistol
on his nightstand, you have to believe he might

not use it. Then the theatre is sunk in blackness.
The audience is a log waiting to be split open. The faint

scuff of feet. Objects are picked up, shuffled away.
Other things are put down. Based on the hushed sounds

you guess: a bed, some walls, a dresser. You feel
everything shift. You sense yourself being picked up,

set down. A cone of light cracks overhead. The audience's
eyes flicker toward you like droplets of water.

What do you think?

  • I love the imagery. I can almost feel like I’m in the audience as the set is being changed.

  • Beth Hoffman

    For me, this poem sailed across my consciousness like a dream of a film I’d just seen or a book I just read.

    Loved it!

  • WOW — great poem! Kind of disturbing — is this a movie? or a real moment? The mention of Chekhov in the title is interesting — I’ve only read one of his short stories, and I’m not familiar with him deeply — would love to know more about what that allusion means…