I got off to a weirdly early start this morning—including checking the Poetry Marathon website for interesting prompts that came after hour 12. The hour 17 prompt (basically the same as the hour 4 prompt, but with different photos—I chose this one by Wei Ding), combined with the Paddy McAloon/Prefab Sprout song ‘I Trawl the Megahertz’, inspired this poem.
Is this the only for you to see me?
I feel like the narrative won’t go any other way
The transcripts are etched in granite, and me without a sander
I don’t like the sound of my voice, but I’ve known some who do
Is it all right to ask you?
The strings are melancholy this Sunday morning
The voice is not mine
Both match the grey clouds and light drizzle
Is the sun hiding, or just pretending?
How much of the story is autobiographical?
Every line is a complete sentence
Questions are allowed—but asking is frowned upon
Rust is falling off the Chevrolet out back
A painter waits, with broom and dustpan
Will the canvas still be home?
For every motion, there is emotion and drag
Every lingering feeling is somehow incomplete
Dawn and twilight chafe at not being able to trade places—just once…
When night comes down, they disappear
How much have they seen?
Lifted veils in a pile on the bed
Shades raised to let the light in
Sunday morning melancholy in grey clouds and light drizzle
Coffee cooling in the cup
Questions never asked
(23 June 2019)
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