Unrehearsed
People bring flowers from Safeway.
I read the bar-codes for something to do
but mostly I watch my friends cry
and wipe their noses on the backs of their hands.
Shot into the ether, bowled over and up
as the clocks slipped back,
I'm unrehearsed for this shift: all this
pollen and cellophane crackle
here among the lilies and freesias.
I'm trying hard to catch an eye or bend an ear
but my friends just stare at the tarmac,
the burnt grass and the mud. They remember head
banging, Tzant and Tampera,
but can only imagine
after that: last Saturday's dazzle;
my exploding Astra turned furnace;
the hiss of burning flesh.
All this pollen makes them sneeze.
It goes through me.
I do my ghost dance. I'm learning fast.
I blow up their nostrils
and down the backs of their necks.
.........................
Poetry by Karun
Read 559 times
Written on 2010-07-21 at 10:46
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