What to do with the girl?
The girl who appears not to listen?
What to do with walls?
Which have sprung while we were sleeping?
What to do with morning? Afternoon?
Parceled into minutes by panes of glass?
What to do with the floor?
Made of tired ships which rolled and died here?
What letters to leave?
What regrets to horn out of our shoes?
How to make signal flags?
From the lace of our sleeves?
From the lace of our sleeves?
How to reach the girl?
How to make tickets from bobby pins?
How to leaven the air with sirens' songs?
How to wave from the dock that does not exist?
How to knot an apron, a halyard, a kite's tail?
For the girl who appears not to listen?
______
for Sunday Muse #12.
That is terrific. Like everyone else, don't know how you do it.
ReplyDeleteWow. I love the references to the sea in this. The girl who doesn't listen is a mystery.
ReplyDeletethe girl who *appears* not to listen
DeleteLove all the questions in this Shay. It really adds to the mystery of it. I especially love the line, "What to do with the floor? Made of tired ships which rolled and died here?"and "what to do with morning?Afternoon? Parceled into minutes by panes of glass?" It makes me think of how with some people or things it does not matter what we do, they are not going to really soak in what we are saying, it will be on deaf ears. Always a delight to read your words Shay, and thank you for participating at the Sunday Muse!
ReplyDeleteYou could tease a novel out of the threads in this. Love the way the questions brace up a sense of things passed and passing.
ReplyDeleteThis feels like it brushes against the tips of your finger. It's lovely and more than just lovely.
ReplyDeleteI love the floor, made of tired ships which rolled and died here.
ReplyDeleteWhat to do with morning? Afternoon?
ReplyDeleteParceled into minutes by panes of glass?
parceled into minutes ... and boxed into, or not - neat compartments, as worn as lacy sleeves
this is rich for the counterpanes - the duality of nature, nurture, fostering an easiness that is neither simple, nor sparse - but embroidered, textured -
a fine interpretation of the image
"What regrets to horn out of our shoes?"
ReplyDeleteSimply gorgeous. Doesn't the heat ever get to your head, and you end up writing crap?
This so aptly describes the daily struggle of living life with anxiety.
ReplyDeleteCatching up on reading. In last comment I said
ReplyDeleteYou create mood better than anyone else I know, but here your vision of place shines (through glass). Is there any angle to a poem which you cannot corner the market?