Tuesday, September 27, 2011

the thousand year stare

The thousand year stare
scaffolds up a hundred transparent moments
my attention wanes
and sharpens abruptly.
I flirt with an emerald hummingbird
on the sun's side of the window
but he only sees his reflection, not the ghost
nods goodbye to sample a Gerber daisy
one of two on a stubborn plant.
I return to the kitchen.
Lines ingrained in pressed wood trace my finger
alphabet letters and preschool portraits
smiley faces
pencils tapping out songs leaving stars behind
the cadence of children making music around our table.
Window smudges.
Moss on the gate grows unchecked
the siding glows
this incessant heat
how long will it take to return after I scrub it away?
I remember something my mother wrote
words of tonic water when they finally went down
still undigested
does she resent me for not being her
or for being myself?
The books I ordered should have arrived
it has been nearly two weeks.
Piano lessons, nursery rhymes, the gingerbread man.
High-pitched silverware slides
with plates like cymbals
My family sings melodies of white noise in the background of my daydreams
I wish I could discern the tune
the fine points, the rough edges
find an intrinsic harmony.


Anonymous said...

The very first stanza of your poem
"The thousand year stare" just reminds me of soldiers in WW2 and how they would just sometimes stare off during battle, lost in their minds. I think that line there is very powerful. Really enjoyed reading your poems.
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Greg Lundstrom RN BSHA said...

Very nice

Clementine Moonflower said...

Thank you for your comments :-)
My son noticed how spaced out I was while looking out the window and watching the birds. I have to give him credit for the first line.

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