For those who haven’t noticed, Miz Quickly is back in town. Her prompt for today regards prepositions, so my poem is a bit of silliness, designed to be a vehicle for prepositions and to answer Miz Q’s instruction to write about how one thing relates to something else. Head over to her place and read the prompt. Meanwhile, I think I have about 18 prepositions in here (I didn’t count doubles).
Better Than Packing
I sit in my large desk chair
at my computer console, seven
floors above ground level.
Over me rise eleven stories more.
We, myself and the apartment
building, sit on Peachtree Road,
which runs north south through
Atlanta, bisecting the city.
Atlanta is located in Georgia,
which lies in the southeast of
the United States, itself taking
up space between two oceans.
The Atlantic and Pacific Oceans,
via which I can reach Asia or
Europe, engirdle the Americas,
and separate them from other lands.
If I had a way to see, lying
opposite, across the Atlantic, in
the sun and sand, is Morocco,
surrounded by the Sahara Desert.
I sit in my large desk chair, sixty-two
miles from outer space and about
four thousand miles above the earth’s
core, regarding the marvel of being,
when all the immensity of lands
and populace dwindle upon looking up,
above all surfaces, beyond all
thought, towards the overarching sky.