Whatever

Whatever gives us closure
Whatever sets it right
Whatever helps to soothe the fear
Or make it through the night
Whatever little gesture
However small or shy
Is what provokes the beast in you
And pacifies the “Why?”
Whatever covers hunger
When anger slakes our thirst
Whatever makes us wonder
Who came up with it first
Whatever files the edges
Not sanding us too raw
But reinforcing boundaries
Well-tested from before
Whatever is an answer
Whatever doesn’t hurt
Whatever leaves us calmer
A sprinkling of dirt
Whatever takes you over
With every nasty prod
Until whatever’s left to see’s
Between yourself and sod.

The Half Life of Romantium

Take a fragile shell of base metal
Iron, or lead will do nicely for a first attempt
Then find somewhere to keep it
While the experiment progresses
Prop it against a shady frame
Darkened doorways work well, then
Seal it with the finest salt water
Washing repeatedly until all planes
Have been carefully soaked in brine
Set it aside to drip-dry on a doormat
Paying careful attention to placement
More progress is made in the hours
When darkness covers the sun’s curve
Applying topical heat at intervals
Until the surface shines with salt specks
Carve your initials into this skin
Making the cuts deep, clean, even
You should still be able to see them
A clear inscription In fifty years or so,
Once things have cooled to room temperature

Expulsé du Paradis

Ce qu’on aurait appellé l’atout principal
de ce pèlerinage m’est perdu.
On a laissé mon coeur se distraire pendant
assez de temps.  Maintenant, il est cuit.
Et on n’a plus de voies, plus d’avenues,
plus de dépit, plus de tristesse.
On n’a plus de sentiments actuels, seule, nue.
Je devrais te quitter, aller explorer d’autres possibilités
de ce monde, dans ce monde,
puis qu’il existe de plusieurs possibilités.
Mais j’ai plus de volonté me jeter dans l’océan
Pour voir si j’ai du quoi flotter, ou si
Je me suis habillée avec aplomb en plomb.
Et les jours passent, sans que je m’en aperçoive…
La vieillesse m’atteint à l’âge d’un quart de siècle.
J’ai un regard fixé, tout droit, sans voir.
La lueur que j’avais trouvé dans vos yeux s’est éteint
Et je restes dans le noir.

The Insomniac

I leave the light on, late at night,
I don’t quite dare to face the night.
Leaping from the floor to bed
In case some creature grabs a leg.
For who can tell what lies beneath
Childhood terrors cause much grief
And only morning brings relief from
Witches, Goblins, Vampire teeth.
I close the curtains, windows, door,
Yet leave a light on down the hall.
I cross my fingers, sneak a peep,
Hold my breath and pray for sleep.
The windows rattle, floorboards creak,
The wardrobe holds demonic sheep
Whose glowing eyes are keeping watch,
Counting seconds, ‘mid my socks.
I’ve hated bedtime all my life.
I rarely sleep, but feel the knife,
The cold sweat trickling down my spine,
My sister’s snoring – sleeping fine.
And yet I daren’t drift myself,
Fearful of some vile elf.
Reading, writing, all night long,
Drawing pictures, whispering songs,
Anything I can devise
To keep from closing these tired eyes
Until at last the morning’s come, and,
Gentle saviour, brought the sun.
Then at last my watch will end,
Trusting in my faithful friend
Who watches me from day to day
And holds my demons all at bay:
Light will keep my dreams quite pure,
So I may fall to sleep once more.