It's as simple as sitting
Simple as a pose
as quiet as grinning
while a world implodes.
I imagine you waving
as if you'd always known
that I'd end up swimming
and overgrown
from your world of anger
and the slight circumstance
that you noticed me timing
your next second chance.
I've got this dock of memory
with you tied to it's side
as I serve up chowders and soups and stories and loops
in my New England pride.
I am the problem here.
I am the one cast aside.
I am the one who fought
to tie the knots that kept up with this tide.
It's all a loosely frayed metaphor
to honor the one I most loved
as I set him off to the sea-
It's not him, it was me-
and it all worked perfectly.
He built what I wanted.
and what I saw in him.
and I didn't stop him,
or cause him to hesitate
as my silly, impassioned ties that bound
never built a knot that couldn't break.
So, here's to you.
I cheer from my bedroom floor
that is scattered with marks and memories
and the hope for something more
simple than sitting
and posing the past
in the form of grinning
and tying off one more last
1 comment:
This is where it has gone...still not good, but better?
It’s as simple as sitting
A simple pose
Quietly grinning
As a world implodes.
A conscious adjustment
From mind to spine
I watched you waving
And keeping time
Just below the belt
Above that jerking knee
That compels me to swim
In the common world of ennui
Build a dock of memory
Tie adjustment to its side
Serve chowders and soups
stories and loops,
tiresome examples,
New England pride.
Convert the space of preparation
with hands that know how to bend and release
admire the fascination
of those who slide underneath
en masse for the pass
of distant shores and greener grass.
Lanterns lit to burn wide.
Knot well for the tide.
It’s all a loosely frayed metaphor
Of setting out to sea
Swimming through the purest plans while
Getting caught on the line of memory.
Twisting and flailing
Raised above as a prize
As panic contorts
That famed New England pride
Into a fervor of ugly and awkward defeat
Flipping and jumping
Searching to breathe.
A pardon, a loss, a sweet sympathy
A catch rightly thrown back
To swim again in the sea.
It’s as simple as sitting
After the release
In the calm of winning
And casting out to believe.
With a sigh and heave of what might have been remorse
The panic is finished,
wait for the next course.
Lanterns lit, solidarity split
Somewhere is a swimmer
Clutching her lip.
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