In the midst of my modest wealth and ability to spend,
it sets in, taking the comfortable chair,
the chaise with the button-backed cushions,
and frames its face by the window's changeable sunlight
while I'm in the thick of wondering
by whose invitation it comes by.
No one could arrange more awkward stay,
a visitant whose not-so-veiled requests
come on as knuckle cuffs, gloved punches,
asking if another wine or fruit be served,
no one other than me, the host, to fetch,
nothing but 'just do', to handle the appetite.
If I were dreaming, this would pass on through,
be gone like an intrusive aunt or a workman
saving travel hours by sleeping in my garage,
my habits thrown to a corner for just that while,
all that I've grown to expect so disarranged like hair
but able yet to be combed -- if only I were dreaming this.
A stunning and thoughtfilled write...and to not be dreaming this...loved every bit of this Trulyfool...and sorry I have been present as of late....thanks for the sip of wine...bkm
ReplyDeleteBarbara,
ReplyDeleteI've been spotty these past few months, and I thank you for returning just to see if I've anything new!
Looking over this piece, I see a place or two I'd revise, but basically, it's a bit of Sartre's Nausee, American style.
Hadn't seen that before -- just felt it.
Good to transact with you again!
Trulyfool
Been missing you some out here
ReplyDeletewhere the magpies swarm, in the
thin air. Terrific poem, sir. It spoke
to me of arthritis, malaise, or some
other unwelcome process of aging.
Yet "it" can be so many things,
animal, viral, or vegetable.
Glenn,
ReplyDeleteI've been missing me, as well. Redirected energies, my friend, but glad to be back, at least for this one that made sense to you.
You've pegged 'it'. Something's gone wrong, somatically behind the scenes in this poem. Or spiritually.
I bow to you for this poem, and for your blog which is a feast.
ReplyDeleteWonderful thoughtful words - amazing stuff.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Wonderful piece. And I adore Monty Woolley, by the way. I want him to come back and marry me.
ReplyDeleteLydia,
ReplyDeleteThank you! I've been distracted from writing in the blog, really on-and-off for a couple of months. It's good to find you still here and reading!
Trulyfool
Anna,
ReplyDeleteI get torn between minimalist word gestures and strings that convey a kind of narrative.
This falls toward the latter?
It's something we avoid thinking too much about . . . illness. Until.
(Still well, here, though -- remaining happy and kicking up my heels!)
TFool
Tess,
ReplyDeleteMonty is one of those actors whose elocution is supreme. When you speak that well, you can carry the feigned arrogance around like a good friend.
You might be able to marry him, but if gossip serves, you would then be his second 'beard'?
Monty, I believe, was a 'gentleman's gentleman' (and not the butler).
Truly, fool