Poems and Lovelorn Thoughts Vol. XVII

Scribble

It is like something you wrote in pen and scribbled out

To try to hide the letters. No matter how hard

You press, it still leaves an indent

On the next page, tangled and heavy

And half readable. It has all the permanence

And all the ethereality of memory;

Fades but bubbles up from time to time,

When the mind is idle and passes the hours

Going through its many mangled lives.

It shines out from behind my scribbles

Like a moon behind dark clouds.

A Winter Jubilee

The chickadees shot across the overcast sky

Like firework bees, zigzagging loop-de-loops

And figure-eights until they went so fast

Yellow halos bloomed around every shard

Of air they touched with their little wings.

They danced in fairy circles laughing at

The biting cold and the icy wind, they sang

Whatever songs they felt like singing and

They didn’t care who heard them or who

Didn’t. They were free as daisy petals, they were,

Flickering flashing until they became

Winter’s daylight stars.

Thoughts at Dinner, Guinevere

I’ve been with Arthur for as long as I

Can remember, but it was only

Recently that I quit lying to myself.

Looking back, I think a part of me

Always noticed that

When he kisses me his lips never move

And all he does is sit there at the table

With his men, stupidly noble with

His blue eyes always clad in armour.

They laugh, toast him

For pulling Excalibur out of a rock.

Conveniently forgetting that he’s

Pulled it out of the thousand heaving chests

Of a thousand dying men.

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