I stopped to pick up the bagel
 rolling away in the wind,
 annoyed with myself
 for having dropped it
 as if it were a portent.
 Faster and faster it rolled,
 with me running after it
 bent low, gritting my teeth,
 and I found myself doubled over
 and rolling down the street
 head over heels, one complete somersault
 after another like a bagel
 and strangely happy with myself.

A charming poem, striking just the right balance of absurdity and seriousness. And quite apart from its metaphorical meaning, it evokes a very literal and physical image - the childhood memory of running downhill as fast as I could, until I was not so much running as bounding, very out of control and very exhilarated. And, yes, strangely happy with myself.

I must admit to not caring much for Ignatow’s poetry in general; today’s poem was a very welcome exception.

— Martin

Links

Biography

http://www.dlxs.org/products/archive-by-CDROM/4/TextClass/src/web/a/ampo20/bios/am22034.bio.html