A Cargo of Green Hearts
~POEMS~
strange, fear's command, how for weeks
we spoke of nothing else, your ghost draped furniture, your car accidents that could happen pianos waiting to combust men shuffling like Grendel in your basement at the bottom of the earth. we sketched it on the walls, described it in calligraphy, burned it into the woodwork with match heads and needles and our own fingernails. erased all the doors turned out the lights to set the mood. so we would know what it looked like if it came. no one could say I did not do this for you out of good intention. no one could say you did not keep me informed. we leaped as high as we could to avoid breaking bones. we drove as quick as we could to avoid hitting cars. we ran as fast as your shadow until it merged with mine at the five yard line. meanwhile, the world went on the birds singing, the trees fattening imperceptibly and somewhere the ghosts of two lovers walking out into a garden, telling ordinary stories the shapes of clouds, the way leaves turn in the wind, the lick of lake water against skin, lovemaking and its many salty variables. "they could have been our ghosts," I whisper as I complete this design, give in to the pull of the last brush-stroke erase the last living window of light.
1 Comment
Leave a Reply. |
Poetry LogPoems are posted here when I'm ready to share them. I often don't title my poems. The date you see above the poem may be the date it was posted here and not necessarily the date it was created. To see more, click on the Archives below. Archives
January 2020
CategoriesUnless otherwise noted, all content ©Paul-William Gagnon, Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-NoDerivs license.
|