Stacks of articles, demanding my brain
focus and think logically.
Assignment instructions I just want to avoid.
My students drive me crazy when they show this sentiment.
But then, I’ll actually get the work done
(on time)
despite the procrastination,
which they frequently do not.
So many papers. So tired from report cards and marking stacks of late assignments and prepping for a new semester and February.
So.
Tired.
But the end is in sight.
I can’t give up now.
The ground hog says
it will be early spring
but even if he did not,
the blue sky and balmy breeze
today asserted its own opinion.
There at the bottom of the bag
is that precious photo
of the beloved man, now gone.
You have torn it into shreds,
torn my respect for you,
torn my love of you,
torn my heart in two.
It was not enough that he adored
and worshipped you?
You were blinder than him,
though he had the account with CNIB.
Your bitterness is poison
and I will not drink it.
We played in the rockery
and you always skinned your knees
because adventure was so much better than caution,
and my mother wasn’t likely to smack you
for disturbing the hen and chicks blooming
in the crevices.
Don’t be a rose,
be a carnation.
Roses have thorns and
are wilting within a day.
Carnations have character
and they stick around for weeks.
There’s no pomp about carnations
they’re happily frilly and fun.
Rose are high maintenance
and will make you bleed.
Your sweater is here
and if I breathe deeply enough
I’m in the scent of your embrace.
It’s unexpected moments
that honey drip from yesterday
crystalizing through today
and crunching in cubes tomorrow.
Sometimes bitter,
mostly sweet.
Another anniversary
Half way through the first year of your absence.
You smile out from your photo
and my memory.
An invitation is made when the bosom
appears bulging into the neckline,
his gaze is grabbed and as she walks away
she pulls him to his feet to trail after her,
eager for the game.
.
Her instigation is subtle.
He appears at the stair,
tips his head toward the bedroom and waits.
If he’s ignored, he offers another tip.
And if she decides to follow him,
she will do so with a sense of irritation
that he doesn’t offer invitations
so much as commands,
and she’s pretty sure she didn’t actually
promise to obey.
Shawn L. Bird 