I feel your humming.
Though you are far,
the vibrations of your present loss
reverberate.
I am humming
remembering you
near
nearer
nearest
wrapped around
my memories
squeezing like
a garbage compactor
humming
as it crushes
moments into
memories.
poem- love letters March 23, 2017
They’re talking love letters
and I hold my tongue
but not my lips.
The tilting corners betray me.
The envelopes with your distinctive hand writing
my name like a caress
glued down like a kiss,
all our hopes and dreams scribbled onto foolscap
by a fool to a fool
giddy from hormones.
And now love letters
are notes on the counter:
“Turn on the crockpot at noon”
“Running errands. Back around 3.”
Messages that mean you still
love me.
poem-sweater March 13, 2017
I found your cardigan
and held it close
searching for the sensation of your arms.
I gathered up the folds
and held it to my nose
searching for the scent of you.
You’ve been gone too long.
Instead of holding memories
Now
it’s just a sweater
you once wore.
poem- walk for refuge February 8, 2017
During the election
we heard some American folks joke
If he wins, we’re moving to Canada!
and we laughed.
But
four hundred and ten
have really done it.
Last week alone
twenty-two
walked for frozen miles
in minus twenty Celsius
to cross the border
to freedom in
(really?)
Manitoba.
They lost fingers and toes to frost bite,
but not their lives to the sound bites
of a xenophobe.
.
.
http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/refugees-emerson-border-manitoba-1.3923747
http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/refugees-frostbite-highway-75-winnipeg-1.3923430
poem- ominous February 7, 2017
The sky could not be bluer
turquoise and ocean and bright summer day
captured on the snow piled like icing on the trees,
but on the horizon
a wall of charcoal grey
hints at a blizzard on its way.
I watch through the window and hope
I’m home before it hits.
poem- frost November 30, 2016
Outside
crunching air announces autumn’s
departure.
Inside
your frosty glare says
winter has arrived.
poem- ominous omnipotence November 24, 2016
The clouds sink
obscuring hills with billows:
silver, grey, charcoal, black.
Heavy clouds in cold air
ready to coat the highway with danger.
We gaze out our windows
wondering whether we’ll get home before
the first storm of this winter.
poem-wings November 23, 2016
Creeping along, devouring everything in sight,
unsatisfied,
wrapped up in strings of your own making
wound up in yourself
chrysalis
waiting for wings.
Patience is a virtue.
You break free, stretch,
the new you quivers with discovery.
You fly, fill life with sweetness,
bring joy to those who watch you
waltz with the wind
until
you fall life-less.
The core of you crumbles,
but the breeze captures the wings left behind
and carries them,
curling and flipping
to the sky.
poem- possible impossible November 7, 2016
Possibly,
I’m
impossible.
This posterity
of probability
poses immortality
prompts immorality
indulges the impossible
creates possibility
from infinity.
Assures
I’m possible.
poem- compensations November 4, 2016
It’s a grey day
frost in the air,
but at least I’m greeting it
in a great pair of shoes.
Shawn L. Bird 