Elemental

 

I thought that you would be like water

in summer

even if the lake lay

beyond the brambles.

On a road trip, the heat mirage oases

seem nearer

like objects in the mirror

where I first saw you.

In summer,

birds bathe in the dog dish I set out--

they fly without rising

in that finite sky.

Your dark hair seemed to flow and called me

like a siren

whose face is obscured

like her every word.

I still set out that dog dish for the winter birds

in their need.

Mornings I set it steaming

only to find it frozen by afternoon.

There are things that flow, comforting things

already changing.

I remember your reticence and kick the bowl of ice

coming free, ungiving, falling hard and only once.

_________

for What's Going On--"what cold is"

Music: Julian Lennon Ruby Tuesday

Canada Heart

The chime of your kiss

Made me forget the chalk 

that marked the stitch-line

where madness

met easy charm.

I don't wear vanilla scent

anymore--it reminds me of

your flocked, bread-crumb skin

the braille I

got lost in.

Toronto has Billy Bishop Airport--

you can fly in,

fill a bag at the duty-free

then cab it

to Yonge Street.

We made love at the Double Tree

with a balcony

to waver on the edge of, after.

Oh, Canada--

Canada heart

is the half sweet, half bitter

half bustling,

half empty landscape where

missionaries say,

"I knew her."

That is where I found this poem, north of Yellowknife,

and south of solace not looked for anymore. 

_______

For Word Garden Word List--Paige Ackerson-Kiely

Music: Gordon Lightfoot Affair On 8th Avenue

Shift

 

Mid-August, the weather patterns change,

but slowly,

like something forgotten in the fridge;

the holy

turning secular, then profane.

We had our own world, you and I,

a beautiful in-joke

but, behind your back as I looked at you,

a green-screen took

over and spoiled it with the whisper of a lie.

All summer, verdant leaves and cool shade

were hiding

the dying brown when the sugar stops flowing.

I'm finding

endings gorgeous, and terrible, like the love we almost made. 

_______

for Sunday Muse #230.

Music: Jennifer Warnes "Pretending To Care" (written by Todd Rundgren)

Song of the Chimera

 

The blackbirds are dying and sing their death

from stump and steeple, barrel and rail.

The police are called every time it snows

and they maunder in the fields, dithery and pale.

I have seen the Chimera

and your barn is burning down.

She is lion, goat and snake

and your barn is burning down. 

Morning appears and suffers a scalding dew.

There is a killer hiding where the lilacs grew

beside the porch of the rectory he burns and claims 

the Chimera is you, and you, and you.

I have smelt the Chimera.

Her skin is fragrant with misery and death.

In the ashes, I have smelt the Chimera.

Her skin is fragrant with misery and death.

In the field stands the papier-mache president.

His is the pomp of smoke house and sty.

The postman delivers catastrophes ill-sent

as the blackbirds call, and falter, and die.

There was love, some say

kept in jars on an old woman's counter.

The gloomy blackbirds beg her for rest,

rest in jars, there on her counter.

There is no more clattering, no good book held high.

There are weeds in the window box, crackling dry.

The killer is hiding where the lilacs grew

telling fools their fortunes from a blackbird's eye.

I have seen the Chimera

coming fast through the dawn

with seven devils to drive her

the Chimera drives on.

_______

for Word Garden Word List # 10. 

What Would You Do If

What would you do if the sky gave up its birds
on an afternoon
made of the name you used to use?

Could you go home?
Would you even want to?
Appearing there, could you sing white dust and 8 bar blues in equal measures? 
_____

for Sunday Muse.

Paperless Office

I saw her once, months
ago. Thought she was cute. 
Now she's back around.
She told me, in the morning, early
about the ditz where she's a paralegal
shredding all the hard copies cos "it's a paperless office."
There's people too dumb to live,
but it made a funny story.


My original heart is just a memory,
but talk to me, girl,
anyway.
______

56 words for Mama Zen's "Words Count."  Yesterday morning at the bus stop, my friend told me this story about some chick's major dumbass moment where she works.