Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Kristen de Kline #127 Medley (3)

I
you didn't really think,  just got in the getaway 
car and drove, foot to the floor, hit the highway to

heaven - no looking back   it was the prints you left on the
steering wheel that the cops dusted off while the vindictive

ex sharpened the Fury knives   just as well the legal fraternity
had heard of the words: 'pro bono'   you jingled a few $2 coins

but it was hardly the down-payment they were seeking, the
solicitor sighed, paid the tab for your Florentine and espresso

said,  jesus h christ, not another bloody grand theft auto charge 
what were you thinking

II
fleeing - there are many incarnations not all at the same time   or
speed   more staggered, broken up like a plateau   interrupted

by pit stops   stop   start   stop   start  where you re-fuel moonlessly:
"gas, food, lodgings", trailer trash, converge with the lawless bum a

smoko from the young man in pinstripes who saunters past, 
briefcase adorned with slick golden fasteners, today's Australian

nestling in his armpit, the sweat-soaked face of Malcolm Turnbull scrunched
up tightly, Barnaby Joyce in the background, a coffee cup stain circles his face

III
past lives reduced to dust   waves washed up and down     and 
lost on a sea that's rarely tossed,   dredging up the dead

when we don't want  to hear their chattering in the margins
their wailing falling off the page like a stray, rogue planet

scattering ghostly shadows across the median strip   casting a
spotlight on a bag of nails waiting   at the side of the road  

IV
present tense now: the moon slips off the page   
you catch a thousand lotus flowers
in the palm of your hand
clouds open and close

the waves draw in the living
dredges in the bodies you don't 
want
to 
know 

you take your heart out of the jar
stop bottling the beats   start dancing
through the fire   air frail air
trace a journey to another house city
State postcode
another     another
you take your heart out of the jar
start to walk   breathe   talk
thrash out another poem for the blog
love   don't   love   
fall in out
of bed   of everything
that's all that matters
at the end of the day
how well you land
on the floor 









4 comments:

  1. land on cat feet....the little planets thump down right after. nice

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Born in the year of the Cat, the queen of lawless always lands on her feet!

      Delete

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.