Wait for a sunny day, and then
Wave the brush in your hand up and down as a signalman does--
The train will be coming through...
That is the only certain thing.
Set your can of color on a newspaper,
And both in the morning sun.
If you see, beyond its silver rim, that someone you know
Has died or gotten married,
Or discussed your heart in an interview,
Remember that this job will take many coats,
And each will have to dry before starting on the next.
In the meantime,
As you sip tea on the steps and read further, out of boredom,
Don't be surprised at the ink that stays on your fingers,
Or the paint that remains on the page.
This was such an interesting poem, Shay. As layered as the paint...
ReplyDeleteI like this poem. It also makes me think of unpacking boxes packed long ago and smoothing out the newspaper wrapping.
ReplyDeleteAfter all the work, I suppose a time comes to walk through.
ReplyDeleteLayers of life ... colors of dreams ...
ReplyDeleteThat first line is brilliant.
ReplyDeleteThe examined life...
ReplyDeleteAloha from Waikiki, Friend
Comfort Spiral
I've got old paint on a new door.
ReplyDeleteOh I love this poem. New paint on an old door is a powerful metaphor. One could go places with that hey :)
ReplyDeleteGreat poem and great metaphor. How did you think of this one?
ReplyDeleteLove it.
ReplyDeleteAs a matter of fact,I think I have a little ink left under one of my finger nails these days ;)
I'll admit it, I am not one for poetry. It's hard for me to relate, but this poem was excellent and resonated with me. Nice job !
ReplyDeleteoh i want a poem on 'counter-transference' now! ;) love it! x
ReplyDeleteWhen I saw the title my mind went down an entirely different path, but you brought me back around before the end.
ReplyDeleteIn every interaction a little of "them" stays with "us" -- and vice versa.
The image of the newspaper reminds me of my childhood, when we lived in a tent made of newspaper in the middle of the street and foraged for sticks and leaves.
you are goOD!
ReplyDelete