Posted by beardedlady on May 24, 2002, at 6:32:21
no wonder
like the pocket of an old coat,
worn from use, from fingers
feeling their way around loose changefor six cents, too many crumpled tissues,
from children’s toys kept safe, cough drops,
and keys that poke the threads,my head can’t hold all it should,
all you say—that i look pretty today,
that dinner was good.the nice slips through, too fine
for the mesh of mind unraveled
by frets and worry and world.and you slip through—the hello kiss,
the weekend plans, i love you,
the frog you held for me to touch.all is gone, lost amid the taffy
of criticism and complaint,
the lead weight of slammed doors,the smothering clouds of flowerless
holidays and goodnight kissless nights,
gummed up works of fear,chunks of doubt, thick loathing, want.
Surely—certainly—with all that glutinous
mess of matter, a smile could take hold,a laugh could catch, a pat on the back
reverberate a moment then stick there,
glued to grief and insomnia,wedged like a shim between an airplane flight
and another sleeping pill, tangled up in a child
stolen from her bed, a pregnant woman raped,the disappeared, yet another pedophile priest,
the arabs, the israelis, enron's murderering
thieves, imf f***ers, the g*ddamned president.well is it any wonder i don’t remember
the last time you laughed? is it any wonder
i have misplaced my keys?l.f.m. ©2002
a.k.a. beardedlady
poster:beardedlady
thread:24483
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20020523/msgs/24483.html