a story has an arc, the teacher told us
and drew a line like a colorless rainbow
on the blackboard — you remember, right?
exposition, rising action — fueled by conflict
the climax at the top, and then falling action
falling so far that we spoke French: denouement
resolution to you and me and I wondered what
would happen if I changed one letter: arc to ark
and the story became a journey rather than a
rollercoaster, crammed full of critters and no map
there might still be conflict, but everything would
rise and fall on how well we learned to live together
whose turn is was to row – and to cook, how long
the doves would be gone and, without a doubt,
what we would do if the hippos got restless
love this, Milton!
Your blog feeds my soul on a regular basis, but this poem stood out and spoke to my heart even more on a hard day. Thank you.