1.
I love walking through abandoned houses,
listening to the echoes of a distant child,
a worn woman taking her shoes off,
almost wishing she hadn't,
so she could walk through the tall grass out back,
but just too tired to get up again.
The windows reflect the glare of a late afternoon sun,
but I just watch the dust motes
on the floor in the bare light and I listen,
listen for the voice of a clock
that stopped running years ago,
just as I listen for yr faraway voice
to walk through the stamp, the envelope, the ink from the pen
and lying in my hand,
the alphabet rising up to say 'hello, it's been a long time...'
I was never gone, I just can't talk
because I don't like yr answers:
so bus stop, so call waiting, so no address.
What did you say you changed yr name to?
2.
Packages come in the post.
I don't know why you send these glossy photographs
that disappear in the brilliant late sun
and I can't tell if there are words written
on the back to tell me who, what, where
because the light is so strong and I've lost my glasses again.
Without the information, it's just a handful of shining paper
so slick there isn't even a braille dot to hang onto.
3.
I...I opened my fist...moments before I slammed it into the pure white.
I do not believe in violence, and so I have to fight myself from hurting...anyone.
I eat greens from the garden. I hate the way animals are slaughtered,
so I'll have no part in it; just like I won't speak yr name
until I can say it with all the love we once carried around
in a burlap sack and a canteen.
4.
Now it's so late, the darkness is that clock without direction.
I lie down on the naked floor in the house no one lives in any more.
I bring my knees to my ribcage, my chin tucked so tight into my collarbone
that my hair falls away from my neck, but down my back, becomes a blanket
I can tangle my feet in for warmth.
5. I say my "Lay me down to sleep" and somehow yr name gets mixed up with God's.
This is not blasphemy, it's a little song I sing myself to remember Grace.
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this is so sad and beautifully written
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed your poems, great
ReplyDeletethanks juliet. i know, i have a degree of sadness in my work and i really don't know if i ought to try and get rid of it, or keep my truth. health comes in all forms. But thank you so much for continuing to read me; for the year i've been here on blog spot, it's been only you, but i see someone else now and that excites me no end. readers are a form of light in the back of the retina that reaches down all the way to the heart.
ReplyDeletehi surf! even tho my profile doesn't list everything about myself, it's astonishing how many things you like that i hold close to myself as well. i mean, like, fountain pens and the Beats! oh yes. thank you for reading my entry and i hope you continue to follow my work. i will try to figure out how to do the same for yrs.
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