For our new series where we feature poems we love, we begin with an original poem by Alexandra Butler a NY-based poet and published author of the memoir Walking the Night Road and book of poetry, Circling the Same.
these Middle Ages are plagued by strange visions
friends fall upon themselves and upon me
and messy houses…the reason bought forgot
in the corner of my eye a viper on the chair – no the cat’s tail
a man behind the door – no my own coat on my own rack
I roll the past through real time my jaw clicks sound of a projector
I turn circles in rooms I’ve not entered in years
Feeling around for hidden walls the faint un-played songs in minor scale
I saw the place I must have left but never went
The most delicate place that broke in two
no name beach I fall behind my sons they laugh at me
tangled in the seaweed is a wishbone
Why do I shout in place of call for them to stop
They gather speed assuming I would stop their play
Long for them to turn
remember to look back
want to reach out and feel my father’s hair again
same white…as what the wave breaks into same as what
splashes at their feet little ankles my sons knock like cockles as they run I realize now
I only said what I thought I should…never what I meant
for this I live the quiet
life work in secret
afraid to lose but my sons are not visions
You can read more of Alex’s poetry here.
Thank you Alex for sharing your beautiful text with us x