Poetry Sheryl Noethe — February 28, 2013 17:50 — 0 Comments
What Is It That Happens – Sheryl Noethe
1.
Something happens, nothing is said.Â
Time passes.
The unpleasantness remains.
In a gust of wind a sturdy looking tree
could easily split a skull in two.
What happened with us was
Bloodless
Frigid
Incomprehensible.
I never imagined this length of time could come between us.
We lost an entire life.
2.
Childhood visits to automobile junkyards, avoiding the watchdogs.
Peering through shattered windows,
grisly collisions,
Skull-shaped holes in windshields,
blood-saturated back seats,
an irreclaimable plastic baby doll.
Broken glass across the upholstery,
liquor bottles on the floors. Gore.
My dad and I speculated on each wreck.
Couldn’t help but look, compelled to stare,
I still recapture the odor of death: inevitable, discarnate.
3.
You and I, we eyed each other like card sharks:
Swindlers, cons, liars, jokers, shape shifters and coyotes.
You were almost bad enough for me, weren’t you?
Never even saw me coming.
Barely noticed I was on my way away.
Slept soundly through the nights when I lie awake packing my bags in my head.
What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney