MY MIND IS A NAME
This is a secure command of word :
the cherry trees are dormant, blanched
in the cold sun's delight. The debenture
of my heart is bleeding once again for
my feelings; I awake knowing precisely
where I've been. The news I just heard
is the news I'd already known. Before
the curving bend, the time has already
happened. I am engulfed anew.
-
In this long, thin room, everything is
shaded, and the lights are soft against the
mirror's face - yellow to soft white, like
an artist's chalk, fading off, away. The only
lines are made by shadows, things twisted
over and across the objects in their way.
-
I have a hat that I came in with, long-settled;
and now it is placed upon the fireplace mantle.
Something unused - like a wish, or like memory.
I will leave it there for a moment as I think.
-
I never understood a thing - 'A Child's Christmas
in Wales' seemed just tragic to me. Coal scuttles.
Felled trees. And a hole in the forest where a
wildness before had been. I miss those old
days, surely now, surely.
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