The secrets
I whisper nonsense
into your feet
and it makes you laugh
so that you can barely stand it
but you kick at the air again
wanting more.
They say you won’t remember this
but the mind is not the only scribe
I tell your feet to hold onto these kisses
same with your belly
and the fattest spot on your cheeks
just in case there comes a day
when you are older
when you are hurting
your limbs will release the secrets
I buried into them
and you will wonder
why you suddenly feel
so strong.
Box of pictures
I found a box of pictures I drew
when I was six
they are all of me
I know this
because the hair is yellow
the eyes are green
and there is always an arrow pointing to her
this is me.
The dresses are intricate
with waistlines that start at the neck
I can still feel the reverence
in those tiny flowers along the hems
the way my arms jut out in arches
as though I am carrying enormous loads
of invisible things.
But what strikes me the most about each portrait
is the mouth
an ardent smudge of colour
evokes the sense that life
is an absurd and wondrous romp.
An open letter to his past lovers
Funny how little we know about each other
though we have so much flesh
in common
I’m sure I would like each of you
just as if I found people who loved consignment stores
dictionaries
salt in their rice pudding
you loved
what I love
and he loved
you
sometimes when he makes me laugh so hard
I wonder
do you miss him
perhaps you would like an update
he is happy
with an undercurrent of restlessness
that keeps his creativity
wet
but what I am trying to say is
thank you
all of those moments you shared
the intimacy and the sorrow
the alphabet postcards (I found them)
you are all collapsed into the mystery of his past
and somehow
perfectly
you landed him
as he is
beside me
not as a blank canvas
but a human being
the kinder
for having loved
you all.
With apologies to Joni Mitchell
They are making pancakes
for dinner
their son is long asleep
she is singing along to Joni Mitchell
I really don’t know cows at all
it’s clouds
he says.
It is remarkable
this ability she has
to get lyrics wrong
and yet she sings
with such mettle
never misses a beat
integrating his edits
seamlessly
shamelessly.
Another night
hungry
or frustrated by his work
it might have annoyed him
ever so slightly
why does she guess every song is by BTO
but tonight he tells her she deserves
a 6.5 out of 2
it is the beginning of a night
when nothing will happen
except dishes
a few phone calls
bits of a movie
and this
an unadorned moment
of devotion.
Time
He lays on a bed
aware that he is crumbling
away
wishing he wasn’t
or at least
if it must be so
that he was nicer
to look at
so many visitors
smiling
staring
he wants to say things
that will be remembered
he wants to say
I loved you
in my own way
but when the young ones come
out of duty
he wants to yell
not for the awkward way
they stand
as though old age
might be catching
but because he knows
they are killing time
until they can laugh and flirt and drive away
he wants to grab them
implore them
time is offering herself up to you
don’t hasten her along
like some sufferable companion
there will come a day
when you will give anything
for one more
breath.
