Monthly Archives: April 2014

This Winter, Two People:

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This winter, two people
edge upon edge
and the slight misgivings .
on the lawn the boy is rushing up the frost bitten lawn
his red button nose and pinched smile:

“what did you want from me?” he asks,
but soon all the boy remembers
is his father clutching his mother’s hand
(that’s him, that’s him, now hold it in, hold it all in)

why do all these idiotic
moronic
stupid
people
want a way out?

the world doesn’t come naturally to anyone!
when he was younger the boy lived in a strange world
full of awe at the bustle and life of it all,
in that dreamworld world where you forgot your own name
in the fancy of it all.

This winter, two people are on edge.
that delicate flower you were trying so hard to preserve
like melting snow, soon gone
and not till he takes her through the second barren dawn
will it lift her from the sleep again.

The mother will see the smiling boy
And she painfully
regretfully
remembers a lost moment.

Kissing is that act of sheer remeberance
as the two people edge upon edge
topple against the sunlight,
exposed and bare, unable to
remember anything, but trying so hard…

The boy enters the house,
his breeches worn from the wind
and the wintry weather.

Night falls on the county town,
and the homestead will slowly quiet down within the hour,
The father in his armchair, reading by firelight,
will see his son’s ruddy chapped face
in a bright white silhouette
imagining for one single guilty moment that he is his son;
and his son will catch a hopeful glimpse upward
and imagine that he is his father.

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

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Unspoken

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June, 17, and Walter, 18. are outside the school campus after the last day of high school. It’s a sunny day, but It’s going to become overcast soon. June is always trying to avoid sticky situations and tends to steer to the sidelines. She’s been through so much in life that she doesn’t like to put herself into bad situations. Walter is a bit of a loner but has an outgoing, philosophical mind that is always moving and imagining. Walter And june have been friends for nearly five years.

 

June: Hey walter.

Walter: (to himself) You saw me at the corner of the street yesterday, I saw you. I was there and you looked at me.

June: What the hell are you talking about?

Walter: (under his breath, still talking to himself) It just seemed so odd, I mean you always go on about Jeremy so it seemed like…it couldĀ happen to me, but it did. I saw you there. It was one of those looks….you never forget.

June: Hey, Walt. Walt. Walter!

Walter snaps out of his daze

Walter: oh hey.

June: Walter?

Walter : yeah?

June: What was that?

Walter: huh?

June: What was that just now? What did you mean?

Walter: Oh my god June, it’s you.

June: I know it is.

Walter: Don’t you remember yesterday? when I nearly bumped into you at the bus stop? you were there, you were so…vacant. But then I saw you and you were just filled…

June: I was alone.

Walter: Uh -huh

they come closer in to each other.

June: I was tired, you know? the day goes on, you need to rest, I don’t know-

Walter: But the way you looked at me then. You were telling me something.

June: Was I?

Walter: Yeah, you were.

June: (now realizing, starting to tear up) I guess you’re right.

Walter: And if I think I’m right, you were going to say…..

June: (sarcastically, through tears) ‘Does this bus stop at Bakersfield?’ (pause) .
Have a nice day Walter. (June exits)

Walter: Don’t forget me, June.

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

Celia As She Wanders

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i

At a loss of my HEART
the CIRCULATION in my BODY
and VESSELS
go HAYWIRE
with VEINS all BLOCKED and OH-

ii

When I think of you
I faintly taste rice,
rose hips, and winter

i am carrying a stifled love,
an exhausted,
misplaced wanderer.

oh cant you see?
when the door opens,
I can still love you
just as if it could have been.

but if only that were true,
with butter melting over the crescent moon
“come, oh night” says she who waits!

the window
is nothing

the hour
is late,

and my her bones look fragile…..

was she tired?
no

but never once the doorbell rang
never once she heard them clammer, with

kites
and
maypoles
flying!

and now she faces the breath of that
empty un-struck noise
of that tangible
cold,
described only by the horses
as they canter away:
my my her bones look fragile…..

iii.

when they are merging the lanes,
by her ankles
are smooth
cool
cornerstones
of the mountain she meant to climb
yesterday.

Lord, she knows! She knows it, damn!
when you hold her she was everything!
when you hold her she grabbed the sky!
when you hold her she wanted the light to hold the world in it and kiss it over
and over again!

and now she sits heavy
on the ghostly porch
where she once saw you smile.

that ache she never speaks of
as she gazes at her
reflection in the
mirror–
“what about me?”
“what about me?”

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

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