I Maybe A While

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
a poem

Submitted: June 21, 2010

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Submitted: June 21, 2010

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In a imperfect world, there’s snow falling across the city.
Suddenly from on high, the place looks like Moscow in the spring
And looking over to the hills, it’s possible to imagine people skiing.

Here like Dostoevsky I shuffle in the snow, destitute in my thoughts.
I imagine her rescuing skinny washing which drips over the kitchen floor,
Veins showing through her cold hands and slamming shut the door.

The cats pressed up to the radiator emitting a low hum of a purr.
As all around the country people peer through white windscreens,
She curl's her feet underneath her and perched on the chair; prepares.

Lays out in meticulous detail, the plans for the week ahead
Formulates and evaluates, read's the poster on the wall, some cat reaching
For a bird on a narrow wall: "Aspiration" written underneath it -

She hope's it won’t fall! Everything is now ready for launch,
All it takes is for her to uncurl her legs, stretch out and press the button,
Send the message to the half a dozen or so people across a snowed-in nation.

There from her work station she run's the world, the perfect world.
The cats rub against her elegant legs, she stretches out,
The sinews in her arms like her just sent emails streaming out -

Into the ether. Here the snow falls heavily over my unkempt hair
And dampens my heavy footfalls as I walk across virgin snow, 3 inches or more.
I think of Captain Oates and what a gesture that was, my face pressed against the wind -

I keep walking, the gangrene in my heart creeping over me like a cloak.


© Copyright 2019 stephen roe. All rights reserved.

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