As I walk into the bathroom I am scared by the brown shower curtain rinsing in the abandoned bath water,
It looks like a giant sea monster, probably octopus, encased in resin,
So still and quiet, the bracken brown folds trapped in light blue water.
Later in the kitchen, my face is reflected awkwardly back from the shiny silver sauce pan,
That I have never made a sauce in.
I feel melancholy because I do not have any favourite words that bounce out of my mouth quietly fanning themselves into the world.
None of this makes sense, but maybe… when the clouds float apple green and sunshine turns to wispy marshmallow when it hits the ground.
Somewhere, sometime, this must make sense,
To have a sea monster in my bath, and a sauce pan that is used for soup.
But not here. Right here. Right now.
Here is a soft moment in the fabric of time, where it all seems to have rubbed thin,
And the universe is bottle blue, collecting momentum, as it rolls down a green hill towards a field of daisies,
Snapping the single thread,
That held this poem together.
Follow for One Poem Every Day!
Ahem, yes, well. I seem to have given up in my idea of never posting a poem that wasn’t ‘good’. I have plenty of poems that, well, what makes a poem good anyway? This could be the best poem you’ve read all day (have you only read one poem today?) or the loudest, depending on how you read it. Art is subjective and poetry even more so (now I’m just trying to sound clever). I’m reminded of another poem, by Wendell Berry, a quote from it goes:
who like your poems,
doubt their judgment.
And on that note, goodnight!