Throughout June we asked you to submit flash entries on a variety of topics, volunteering, garden wildlife, or writing. We’re thrilled to announce the well deserved winner, Tom Langlands! He wins a copy of The Sentence by Louise Erdrich, courtesy of Corsair Publishing. He submitted two entries and we feel like they both deserve to be seen. He has also very kindly provided a reading of his poems which you can listen to below.

Mother Cecilia

They assembled
every day at dawn,
ears pointed high
like hands in prayer
held to the sky.
Nature’s steeples,
twitching for some bunny god
to sanctify with proclamation,
bless the gathered congregation 
and offer mass
with blades
of purest, dew-stained grass
from virgin lawn.

That summer
as steamy days hopped by,
their faith grew strong
evidenced
by the growing throng.
The lush, green carpet
spread prostrate under firmament,
a breeding ground for high salvation
where earthly genesis of procreation
laid bare
the souls
of all who came and worshipped there
in fornication.

She stood
apart in halo light,
a superior rabbit
clad ears to tail 
in nature’s habit.
A celibate mother 
watching over ragtail brood
until one day she was not there,
perhaps ascended into thin air
but inter alia
I surmised
Mother Cecilia
had joined a bunnery.

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Why Do I Write?

I owe it to the line maker in the Blombos Cave, South Africa
to the hashtag engraver of Gorham’s Cave, Gibraltar
to the zigzag scratcher of a shell by Solo River, Java
they were the first scribes 
the markers standing at the dawn of sentient thought
they were in the beginning  
before the word was born

I owe it to the cave painters of Lascaux, France
who captured the spirit of horses and stags 
and the thunderous charge of running bulls
to the Cave of Swimmers in the mountains of the Sahara
to the gods and the festivals of the ancient Balkans 
adorning the walls of Magura, Bulgaria
to those who left their timeless handprints
waving across the millennia
in Cueva de las Manos, Argentina
they were the storytellers, the capturers of moments, 
the creators of myths and legends
authors without words

I owe it to the proto writers scattered across the Earth
to the sign-makers, the curators of meaning
to the unknown phonologists
to the precursors of inscribed Chinese oracle bones,
Sumerian cuneiform and Egyptian hieroglyphs
to the joiners of lines, the creators of letters,
the founders of alphabets
to the connectors of symbols and sounds
to the constructors of language

I owe it to the thinkers, the philosophers, 
the linguists, the communicators
to all the great civilizations of Earth
to every author who has ever written
to every book penned
to every poem read and every song sung
to every message sent in a bottle, 
fixed to a landing craft on the moon
or attached to a spaceship 
hurtling beyond our solar system

I write because it excites me
I write because I can
I write because there was a time when we could not
I write because I owe it to those who have made it possible

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About Tom

You can also find Tom on Facebook.

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