Poem | 4-12-25
🕑 Added 2025-04-23 14:25:36 +0000 UTCjust wondering - do you miss me?
have you seen me lately?
i haven’t -
and when the ringing
in your ears
gets so loud that the
wetness outside
sounds even softer -
do you think of it?
and i know a place
where the sun is even brighter
and that rowboat, takes you
down the way;
a ladder and a window (stained glass)
and phone calls that last for years,
and truthfully, i haven’t
stopped calling
car crashes and alarm clocks
and a home invasion
so loud it makes your
blood burn; something
so tragic, it has to be real
the pounding and the nails -
and a screw works just as well; flat,
small; unassuming
the park and black coffee -
and every boy rides a skateboard
and that’s how it should be, if
you really think about it
cast iron fences, not to be
confused with the white ones,
because, darling, that’s all gone now
the hoarding and the empty nest
the plants and the flowers and
the stolen green pot - carry it home,
follow the tracks, they’ll show you the way
and regretfully, it’s the last time -
but you don’t know that yet
i’m so sorry to tell you it ends;
you were so lucky to have
two windows and not just one
the sun stained poster,
and the vanity (a bonfire)
and ashes and ashes and ashes
who’s that on the couch?
oh it’s ashes; if you forget
the words, just look for me in
the crowd, i’ll tell you when to do
the dance - no one will know
but sinéad is dead so we’re
all orphans now -
a castle somewhere in the highlands
where you wait tables
and exhale and inhale and exhale
and inhale - they found him in the woods
all by himself - screaming for me
it’s not hard to see it now -
the fireplace can be
green if you look hard enough
it’s coming through the trees - finally,
you’re almost home;
and
tucked away someplace
not so far from here
is a small inlet by the Harbor -
summer and autumn last
forever, and so does
the feeling - yes, that feeling.
it doesn’t end here.
