I’m upside down
and it makes me dizzy
how so many years later
you can still do this to me.
I’m upside down
inside out and backwards
breathing like I’ve run a marathon
like you’ve decrypted my password.
I’m upside down
like I’m on a circus trapeze
another day with you, our love
is full of moments like these.
Lord Baden-Powell had it right when he advised the Scouts to Be Prepared
especially in summer paradises, the drop in visitors are far from rare.
But while the public zones might meet pass inspection
the bedrooms require some interjection and disinfection
Explosions of laundry piled in the guest room
Slow motion quandry to solve in a hurry
Hang up the phone, fly into a flurry
Hang up the clothes; Come we must hurry!
In just twenty minutes make this space habitable
for twenty minutes we must be indefatigable!
Make up the beds. Whip round the vacuum,
then answer the door bell crooning, “Good afternoon!”
It wouldn’t do for you
to behave that way;
we have expectations
requiring regurgitation of
regulations. Speak as told
don’t be bold, just hold this reeking
treatise of broken society for me
and do what you are told to do.
Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, they say
and all around me is grey.
The hills are obscured by haze
the acrid scent of it bites my nostrils
creates an ache in my throat, until
I want to go anywhere but here, where
there is fear of fires leaping valleys
razing the city. July in BC, seems to mean
burning bushes, without any sign of divinity.
When very riled my dad would curse
“Sugar!” he’d cry with vehemence.
Remembering now makes me sigh,
t’was a perfect curse for such a sweet guy.
Small voice calling;
creatures crawling.
Hopes are falling.
She’s left bawling,
Must stop lolling
and start hauling.
Why doesn’t the smile on your lips
show in a twinkle in your eyes?
What false bravado are you bearing
with that expression that tells lies?
and that is beginning
and that is ending
and that is continuity
and that is blessing
and that is leaving
and that is receiving
and that is you
and that is me
and that is we
Eleven forty-two
and I’m missing you
You said you’d be back between
eleven thirty and twelve o’clock
I hope you didn’t stop anywhere because it seems
The minutes are hours and I’m powerless
with longing. I guess this means
I love you, even though now it’s
eleven fifty-two
.
.
.
.
(Actually, he came through the door at 11:47, right on schedule. Poetic license!) 🙂
Thank you
though you broke my heart into pieces
that never quite went back together the same way again,
Thank you.
You said I knew you better than anyone. I floated on those words
hopeful they meant forever.
You knew and every word was true.
But knowing didn’t mean staying.
Knowing meant facing painful truths
Knowing didn’t erase you,
it released me.
Thank you.
Shawn L. Bird 