Sunday, 24 January 2010

Where Was Mine? -- Cyndi Dawson, word rocker

The Rear View publishes accepted poetry in our print version, although once in awhile we will place a few selected poems online. The April issue of "The View From Here" will feature an interview with Cyndi Dawson in The Rear View section, take a moment to read this piece out loud and then visit her MySpace. Tell her we sent you.


Where Was Mine?

So what? Leaves blew. I was bundled in soft fleece
umbrella tightly wound
Dead center of patio table
a sure sign your smile had altered, stitched
as it were
The crows. Everywhere.
Telephone wires filled with them.
Everything comes to some remnant of self,
we say...
Everything gasps for last gulps of before
to become refugee in newer seasons, falling leaves and all.
You became a fugitive within your own skin.
You shook thunderous rage when storms grew luminous
in your eyes
brewing winds, warning signs. I chose blindness.
There. Had I only seen.
This world told us move on but we stalled and fought.
We held trunk of tree white knuckled revealing shadowed
not to let go.
So what? Stiff crimson leaves blew:
cold wrapped around. Us.
Time is cruel as frost
Yet we engaged it.
I pulled loose threads from your blue lips
tugged upwards for one full smile
(trees were small in comparison)
Around us worlds reached for survival.
Isn't that what living things do?
What we did, too?
I reached for your smile
it hung there like a crescent from one single thread.
Winds roared, then descended down. Willing to kill.
Where was my crescent, I wondered...
Where was mine?
Poem published in the January Issue of The View From Here
Photograph By Julian Povey