four minutes to the hour now
three minutes
it will soon be two
only so long till daylight
wait child it comes
when you need it least
crave it
less and it will break open like rain in Jamaica
hurry up now
take the clothes from the line
quick child
you like getting wet?
the memories meander
flat like pile drivers
pity I have outgrown the need
to chart my own death
such romance to think
you control something other than your
wish sputtering birthday
like candle
bleeding
gasping chokehold
better to go drowning
poetry
and plums
oranges are the only fruit
swirls patterning pieces on my blanket
winter is an illusion
that spring is on its way
love me
or leave me
is so finite
dark and me and my fax machine arrived
minutes to the third hour after midnight
can't beat that
delivery
so now I am working
no dice on what will come of such
indulgence
night and me
at it again
see you at dawn,
Staceyann
I always like reading your journal entries and hearing your poetry whenever the chance arises, but today more than ever before, I can relate to your words on a more personal level. Sometimes, just knowing that another person feels what you feel-or has 2 or 3 words to describe what seems so indescribable to you can comfort you on a level that you never really knew existed. Thanks Staceyann.
Posted by: Brenda at February 28, 2005 12:45 PM