I watched the froth go down and the yellow liquid rise to meet it. I twisted the glass around and it tipped over and spilled on his arthritic knee. I looked to the side and didn’t apologize. His beautiful bony fingers flicked off the foam in separate particles as if it was incidental lint he had finally noticed.
The decision is yours now.
He rubbed the liquid into his pant leg. I sighed. Either decision I make will kill something.
And so, you want to hang in this ether land forever?
Yes.
And if I pulled your hair?
And if I scalded your mouth?
And if I made a teepee of birch billets with you in the centre?
Look at me.
No.
He went away.
Next night the phone rang.
I’ll meet you at Glacier and First Point. You must be exact.
I’ll be there for three evenings.
For three nights I wore myself ragged but couldn’t find where.
Friday evening the doorbell rang. He handed me two books by Aksel Sandemose. I put my fingers exactly where his warm fingerprints still lingered on the top book and closed the door. I read and waited.
(There was a tidal wave and a woman went from window to window with a candle in her hand as her house floated out the bay. They rescued her in St. Lawrence.)
When you are ready, if ever, light your own candle.
Two years later, my hand shook as I held the match. His hair had greyed around the temples and he crippled shyly.
Five years later, two babies look hauntingly like him. He is chopping wood in the backyard. He stops.
Look at me. I fooled you years ago. Glacier is in Iceland and I tore out all the pages where it was written in that book. Do you regret that we called the babies Abstract and Zero? Come feel Aunt Hilda and Didymus under my fingernails.
His gentle laugh ripped the night sky, and I got pregnant again.
Copyright ©:
Agnes Walsh
A few random poems:
- Not the Pilot. by Walt Whitman
- Robert Burns: Tam Samson’s Elegy: When this worthy old sportman went out, last muirfowl season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian’s phrase, “the last of his fields,” and expressed an ardent wish to die and be buried in the muirs. On this hint the author composed his elegy and epitaph.-R.B., 1787.
- Hohenlinden by Thomas Campbell
- Николай Тихонов – Инд
- Анатолий Жигулин – Бросаю в воду хлеб
- Владимир Степанов – Галочка-считалочка
- Moonbeam flowers by Preeth Nambiar
- At Applewaite, Near Keswick 1804 by William Wordsworth
- last_word_to_childhood.html
- In Spring, Santa Barbara by Sara Teasdale
- Николай Глазков – Поэтоград
- Михаил Лермонтов – Забудь опять свои надежды
- The Fairies’ Siege by Rudyard Kipling
- Not Goo Hwome To-Night by William Barnes
- Константин Бальмонт – Цветок (Я цветок, и счастье аромата)
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Robert Burns: The Flowery Banks Of Cree:
- Robert Burns: Young Jamie, Pride Of A’ The Plain:
- Robert Burns: A Red, Red Rose: [Hear Red, Red Rose]
- Robert Burns: A Vision:
- Robert Burns: The Minstrel At Lincluden:
- Robert Burns: A Fiddler In The North:
- Robert Burns: Wilt Thou Be My Dearie?:
- Robert Burns: Remorseful Apology:
- Robert Burns: Complimentary Epigram On Maria Riddell:
- Robert Burns: Address Spoken by Miss Fontenelle on her Benefit Night, December 4th, 1793, at the Theatre, Dumfries.:
- Robert Burns: My Spouse Nancy:
- Robert Burns: On Mrs. Riddell’s Birthday:
- Robert Burns: Thine Am I, My Faithful Fair:
- Robert Burns: Deluded Swain, The Pleasure:
- Robert Burns: Where Are The Joys I have Met?:
- Robert Burns: Thou Hast Left Me Ever, Jamie:
- Robert Burns: Down The Burn, Davie:
- Robert Burns: Behold The Hour, The Boat Arrive:
- Robert Burns: Robert Bruce’s March To Bannockburn:
- Robert Burns: Dainty Davie:
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
