Half-Told Tales
Come sit yourself down and listen
to an old frenzy wheezing on a bus
the slant of his head and the hand
shaking so bad after the accident
say he can't let go of the night
a man waiting to cross the street
his eyes glance up to the sky
sees there is someone waiting
in another part of heaven a tree
no rope but sweet birds of sorrow
a toddler already festooned with
red balloons goes after the last one
new mother ignores his noises
the way a time ignored her own
now makes up stories in her head
a grandfather will sit down quietly
the body still whispers things
the door the bottle the birthday
the gunfire jumping around across
the first time he heard the Devil’s name.
beautiful writing, observant with a human touch, especially the following:
ReplyDeletea toddler already festooned with
red balloons goes after another one
a mother who ignores his noises
once upon a time ignored her own
and now makes up stories in her head
Dear Efi, You are kind. A type of Murder Ballad. Originally a going-on-a-ride poem, hold-on-tight, slightly mad. The 'beautiful writing' was maybe unnecessary. In the end I simplified the language and brought all the lines back together again - in the drafts there had been many odder configurations - and now that the thing is compressed, it may regain its spring. But it was my birthday today...so I won't care until tomorrow.
ReplyDelete