Monday 22 October 2012

It's Called a Conversation


Shut up, please.  You know not who I am,
acquaintance at most so don’t call me a friend.
You speak what you say and I hear what you want,
but one-sided speech isn’t conversational thought.
If I interrupt kindly, a bruiting displeasure,
a negative smirk or walk off at your leisure.
For listening isn’t a sport you know of,
not a ball or a bat, just a mind not to judge.
So hear me this once and please listen clearly,
to stand by my side you must interchange evenly.

Tuesday 9 October 2012

Six.

Six, my lucky number
Six pillows on our bed
Six kisses say goodbye
Six years since we had met

Six hours ‘til I see you
Six pencils on my desk
Six, the clock placed a hand
Six buttons on my dress

Sixty miles an hour
Six o’clock reservation
Six bullets in his gun
Six-second hesitation

Six peoples piercing screams
Six steps forward he takes
Six quick rounds he fires
Six feet you fall and break

Six-mile ambulance trip
Six nurses wait bedside
Six words to you I whisper
Six breaths before you die

Six men carry your casket
Six rows of black dressed grieving
Six verses I can’t utter
Six sobs of disbelieving

Six lilacs on your grave
Six-dollar cab ride home
Six windows full of moonlight
Sixth floor and all alone

Six pillows on our bed
Six hours sleepless slumber
Six kisses wishing to take
Six, my unlucky number