pull out

 

  

oh   i can see many things   i can see into the past 

the future it as clear

as summer rain   i can see what i want to see   i 

 

can see what i don’t want to see   i see 

terri's smile   that is

in the past   i see colin's grandfather's fate

 

that is in the future   i see the blue of the sky 

the white of the clouds   those

are the mundane sights which make every day

 

anything but mundane   but real and true   i see 

something less categorical   

i see the guillotine's blade coming down in slow motion   

 

time enough pull out   but i   too   am moving 

in slow motion   no   it is not me 

 

~

 

that i see   but all of us   all of us   moving as one 

in slow motion   i see 

there is still time   the outcome is not clear   it is 

 

an image i would rather not have   i scan 

my horizon to replace

the grim with something cheerier   i see the aforementioned 

 

four walls   mentioned yesterday   i see the street

the nest   the sky   the clouds   

i see marketa   i see the stuff of our home   i see 

 

images   if i pause to conjure i see images

of past loves   fine or raw   i see

myself at all ages   smiling into a camera at occasions

 

of note   at my best   at my worst   i see nothing 

that dispels the grimmest of reapers   

 

~

 

i soldier on   flick through images   find one

that does work   cleanse 

what needs to be cleansed   it is the first of april   a fool's day   

 

we are nothing if not fools   it is a lighthearted day

or   can be   here is an image   i am 

young   april fool's day still means something to me   i am

 

up before the rest of the house   my parents and sisters 

yet asleep   in the bathroom i 

find my father's safety razor   remove

 

the double-edge blade   replace it with one i've made 

of cardboard   on which i've written   

april fools   an image that will do for now   something 

 

silly   something true   it will do   it brings to mind 

something else   not an image   but a scent   

 

~

 

not a scent   but scents   plural   my father's   

bay rum and whiskey

bah   enough of this line of thought   la la la

 

marketa is at the sink   from behind i wrap my arms 

around her   la la la

she turns to face me   la la la   images replaced

 

by sensation   la la la   we are humans    after all   

we feel   i feel marketa   she

is real   has weight   has substance   la la la

 

as real as real can be   touching all senses   la   la   la 

so our day begins   this fool's day   

this universal fools' day   celebrate   evoke imagery  

 

memory   sensation   pull out   there is still time   sensate   

now   today   be strong   take control   fight back  

 

~

 

marketa smiles   she knows i am daydreaming

writing lines

nothing is preordained   nothing is yet written

 

even as we go about the kitchen   as i

make tea   as she

makes coffee   as we talk

 

about the reality of close confines   oh   

we will fight back   

we will sensate   just as we will

 

fall silent to uncertainty   feel alone   though 

we are not alone   

vulnerable   which we are   that is

 

no excuse   this day is ours for the taking  

we will take it

 

 

 

 

`

 

 





Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 213 times
Written on 2020-04-01 at 17:35

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Bibek The PoetBay support member heart!
Soft and dreamlike. The narrative flows so smoothly; the way one section leads to another is consequently seamless. From the contemplation of guillotine blade to April Fool's Day to the dance: this is beautiful!
2020-04-03