Static (A Blue Poem I Wrote in May)
Static.
My head and hair are static.
A completely tangled and endlessly knotted
Portion of my body.
My mind though of course, not a physical static.
You can’t see confusion. Apart from when you
are able to grasp a glimpse of it in a quick expression.
I am very confused, perhaps as confused as the reader.
I am very confused and most especially with these children playing just
feet away across the road from where I sit on this backyard bench.
They don’t care! And I do not want to either, give me your oblivion!
You have felt so little so far. You have yet to tread into the ring of
static.
I’m here and it only gets worse, the more
you dance.
Now I wish to make this ring of static more homey, me being trapped here and all.
what a challenge that will be.
Yet I’ve heard a healthy challenge is good for an increasingly static
soul.
So I’ll set up a sofa and a round table here, right in the corner!
I won’t be able to sit, as the static quickly embraces my feet.
so I’ll admire from close up. My lips will grin as ache overcomes me.
So i’ll wait and carry through.
wait for the first pond of serenity to heal my aching self.
As it scolds the static in harsh tone that
will forgive.
