because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

Thursday

Max as the Cadbury bunny

the sky
is a pale bruised canvas
for a convalescent
sun, and the cat
and i lie up
against the space

heater, waiting
for the watery
light of late afternoon
to wander in
through the upstairs
windows. i

am thinking bare-legged
thoughts, dreaming
of sand. he dislikes
the lilac candle,
the smell
of the old coffee.

today is too cold
for outside poems.
even the flies
that settle on
the unborn bodies
of outside poems

are sluggish,
and the cat bats
them down easy.
looking out, we see
power lines and bare
branches over pastel

rooftops. he does
his best cadbury
pose, breaks
my concentration
before the concrete
of the words has set,

leaves his imprint
in their wake.
fitting that it’s three
nights til Easter.
some days we wish
it were May already.

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15 responses

  1. Such beautifully worded imagery, and gorgeous Cat too, a pleasure to read and experience… xPenx

    April 17, 2014 at 2:28 pm

    • Thanks, Pen! :)

      April 17, 2014 at 3:21 pm

  2. vmarkcovington@comcast.net

    Awesome!

    April 17, 2014 at 6:24 pm

  3. it will be may soon enough…and outside poems will be born and running around our ankles…
    and your legs will know sun and sand…

    April 18, 2014 at 9:54 am

    • Yes! That is true, Brian… and my legs could use both ;)

      April 21, 2014 at 11:30 am

  4. Love the feel of this poem. I am drawn into the surreal drift of spring fever, the languor of an overlong winter. Love the line: breaks my concentration before the concrete of the words has set” Delightful! Hurry up summer!

    April 22, 2014 at 11:04 am

  5. So much enjoyment in reading this. Inspiring.

    April 22, 2014 at 1:54 pm

  6. This is excellent. Great sense of melancholy captured in your words.

    April 23, 2014 at 12:39 pm

  7. Great..:)

    April 29, 2014 at 10:06 am

  8. such a great use of the word convalescent

    April 30, 2014 at 2:49 am

  9. Well done, this is beautifully executed, it slowed me right down:

    “even the flies
    that settle on
    the unborn bodies
    of outside poems
    are sluggish,
    and the cat bats
    them down easy.”

    PS: I was brought here by “Mirror Obscura”

    May 1, 2014 at 12:41 pm

    • Thank you! That’s exactly what I was going for. :) I owe a lot of thanks for traffic to Mirror Obscura!

      May 6, 2014 at 11:34 am

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