Poetry Corner

poetry corner

w E e K

w E e K

thE hoUseS beComE moUntaInS –
I aM baCk
thE skY iS greY
I aM faR awaY.

thiS miST beForE mY eyEs
caNNoT bE piErCeD, 
mY heArT caN.

+

thE wEeK thaT WaS,
anD thE wEeK enDinG –
(sTraNgE qUaRanTineD daYs oF anTiSepTiC)
theSe paTHetiC geMs oN a tAblE-toP pluNgeD mE theN
thE raGe beComeS baNdaGe.

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I faLL,
iCaRuS anD eMpYRe, 
I aM stiLL thErE
I aM cruSheD tO thE flOOr
I aM piNNeD tO thE stReeT –
preSSurE drOvE mE dowN;
I tRieD tO peNeTraTe thE haRd-blaCk-shiNy taRmaC,
tO craCK ,
tO gliMpSe thE cOOl-daRk-eaRtH beNeaTh mY broKeN fEEt –
tO corKscReW doWn intO thaT plaCe
wheRe a miLLioN otHeRs slEEp soUndLY
iN theIr loAmY bedS.

+

I losT mY waY,
I tOO aDriFt iN sluMbeR theN
I aWokE iN a whiTe-wOrlD wheRe;
thE veRticaLs beComE hoRiZonTalS
anD thEsE nuRsEs arE thE eYeS anD earS
oF wE inCumBenT reCumBenTs –
noW halF-deaD aliVe witH
a boTTle foR mY piSS
anD
a nuRsE tO whEeL mY shiT awaY
anD
a piLL tO taKe mY paiN awaY.
tHiS 
a plaCe thaT takeS mY drEamS awaY.

+

I aM bacK –
uNdeRmiNeD‘
anD witH aLL thE timE iN thE woRLd.
hoRiZonTaL,
deMenTed,
stiLL-caGeD,
houSe-bOunD,
cRuTcheD anD deSpiSinG 
thiS fOOtlOOseNeSS.

+

thE hoUseS beComE moUntaIns –
I caNNoT geT thrOuGh yeT tO yoU,
I haTcH plaNs liKe waTeR thrOugH finGerS,
I caNNoT teLL yoU hoW theSe thiNgS acHe tO bE‘
theSe fEEt aRResT mY tiMe. 
yoU eVadE mY baNdaGeD beiNg
aRRanGeD thuS –
I wanT tO geT ouT
tO leaVe yoU bE,
peAcE bE wiTh yoU
tO heLL wiTh mE...

Ben Browton – tMx 24 – 04/06
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