Day: May 2, 2010

It takes twelve minutes to boil an egg

poetry

It took Plath less than twelve to boil her head.
The skinny clock hand that creeps around so fox-like
Doesn’t care if you made it all the way to the
Platform, just one hair after the last train home
Slips away, slug in a rug, down the chimney tunnel.

And like the cheeky alarm clock that taps its little
Toes all night long, like the fractures that creep
Their way into bingo-playing bones, it’s coming for you.
While your tea turns to a swamp and your cornflakes
Turn to baby vomit in their bowl, it’s coming for you.

So kiss me harder next time, because it’s coming for you
And don’t let your beer go warm like you have done.
Because it’s coming for you, and there’s no way of stopping it.

By Extension

poetry

I never would have thought—
Wouldn’t even have thought to think
(And certainly didn’t)
A year ago—
That this is where we would be.

Now another year has passed—
And I can only imagine
(Just barely)
As the next one comes—
How much more awaits us then.

This gift, and I’m so undeserving—
I’ll never understand how it happened
(But it did)
And by extension—
I’m the luckiest man alive.

re-collection

poetry

on sweaty nights after a concert
where we wore sweat pants to
challenge the social norms
and wandered back on silent
roads made even more so by the
faint ringing in our ears turned
slow buzz in recovery from standing
in the front row hoping for a better
view of the band.

the stars were always out in
majesty on those
nights

Stars

poetry

There are stars
and they’re burning
somewhere, billions of
miles away, and
I see them.

But there’s a haze
(at least)
between us and them
and all things considered,
the red road flares
out-beautiful
the stars,
at least tonight.