short straw
Mar 3rd, 2008 by Ree Joy
the first time a man lost sight
of words to complete
or erase an entreaty marked
the birth of poetry, i’d like
to believe.
the heartbeat
after a thousand i’m sorries,
is gotta be the most profound,
don’t ya think so,
too?
the gesture lost,
the one you make
behind a retreating back; now,
that is poetry, words leaving
in a huff,
words you run after
while your soul
cultivates the driest
tears.
and so am i bereft, comparing
the lean poverty of my
honesty to your
wealth.
i have not been a child for a long
time…
still, i persist,
in my impulsiveness,
to impose what has worked
to curb my own faith’s reticence
on your own quandaries, and i am,
thus; rebuffed, if ever so gently,
wakened, so very firmly,
to all i’ve taken for granted, and left,
naked, but for this misbegotten
poetry.
haikus dangling nude
thin sticks on bare cherry trees,
the sound of one hand
clapping a miserable koan;
awkward doesn’t even begin
to say it.
poetry and bungee jumping,
it’s all just another way
of screaming entreaties while you
f
a
l
l,
and try to bounce back.
i’m sorry,
and a heartbeat before,
and the longest one after, too,
and permit me, allow me
to take all back
for both our sakes;
and no, yes, no will suffice
just fine
until i relearn
the courage to dial your name
without your fingers
on mine.
If I was dreaming, this poem would be speaking to me, and me alone. But that someone would write something like this for me? Maybe not in this lifetime… that is too much fancy wishing.