When the Wind Plays a Trick on Us
we are gathering post-its for a bonfire
flies piggyback on our shoulders
we cradle forests in our arms
We speak of strength wild like a boar
And of courage rusty like a fox
We spoon freckles into our mouths
and take large bites of the sun
We swear bicycles are meant to be flown
not to be cycled or for shattering bones.
We ride on, stack troubles sky high
moan under the weight of an elephant
But how can we survive a storm
when it arrives without warning
like a cloud of gas showing up
at a birthday party announcing: Surprise!
If we speak we speak of love soft as badger's pelage
and honesty: warm days, thick with honey
You say you are a fickle eater so why don't you build
a house out of broccoli, a garage bricked with parsnips
and a drive filled with carrots. But you do not listen
you take sharp knives to my harp, and pluck on my chest,
burrow inside my sett, and hire a digger to claw out the pain
that you say resides somewhere inside.
Can you sooth a toothache with Bach or Handel?
Can you click your eyes together
and say: "There is no place like home."
There is no place like sitting in front
of the television wrapped up in an ocean,
watching programmes about the trials of life
when outside life is so overwhelming
that to watch it would make you pin your skin to an owl
But what is there to fear other than ourselves
watch birds flutter let them nest in your eyebrows
let them feed their young and learn
if the wind is strong enough to carry them upwards.
Day Six is here. I'm on top of things for now. Ginna over on Sometimes I Fall Down has a few chop and screw up the sentences poems so I decided to have a go trying something new. Chop, chop.