Wednesday, August 12, 2020

John Grey ..................... three poems


ON A MOUNTAIN ROAD, YOU’RE DRIVING, I’M WATCHING

As I immerse myself
in the scenery,
you grip tight
to the steering wheel,
concentrate on winding
with the winding road,
not against it.

What do I care
if there’s a deep ravine
on one side,
a towering cliff on the other.
I’m part of the mountains.
You’re maneuvering
the turns, the twists,
of the one part
of this spectacular landscape
that is indisputably human.

My reverie
takes me to the very top
of the highest peak.
Your close attention
has you where you are
at any given moment.

That last thing you want
is for is to both go over the side.
That’d be a thousand feet drop for you.
Six thousand for me.














GALE

An indifferent waking,
she invokes a comedy,
her thumb-twiddle
taking on great importance,
her twisted mouth
more for balance than effect.

And then out pop her toes
from the end of the sheets,
flaked with red paint,
wiggling like piglets
sucking on the teats of the morning.
 
Her arms stretch wide
as lungs retrieve some of the oxygen
gone missing in the night,
then knuckles rub eyes
so vision can move forward.

She lifts herself up on her elbows,
swings legs around,
touches the floor gingerly
like dipping feet in cold water.

Seated side-saddle on the bed,
this is her first portrait sitting
for the day.
Sun warms to the task.
Light is eager to begin.
First, a masterpiece.
Then coffee.













TRASH ON THE SIDEWALK

The battered rusty truck stops.
Old furniture left out on a sidewalk
is loaded onto the back.

Maybe a table with one misshapen leg.
Or a television that needs a thump on the side
to get a picture.
Or a bookcase that’s missing a shelf.

Someone inside the house
glimpses a broken chair being lifted
and they may see the hands
but never the face
of the one taking it.

And the guy doing that lifting
can see something move in the window
out of the corner of his eye
but he turns his head away.
It’s enough they know that
their trash is being taken away.
No need for them to see the one
for whom all this is treasure.

The truck drives off.
The sidewalk is clear.
The castoffs will go
to make his apartment more livable.

The family is relieved
that the junk is off their hands.
He’s anonymous
until his truck gets it to its destination.












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