publishing poetry only

Monday's Poem

Author photo by Kath Curran

Link: Cry Poetry

© 2008 Thomas Brown

Poems Don't Come

when you call them
it won't help to drum
your fingers on the keyboard
the way you might
rattle a spoon against
the dog's supper bowl

Poems don't come
at your convenience
tapping on the front door
like some delivery man
you summoned to
collect your thoughts

Poems aren't dinner companions
who ring politely from the lobby
carry a bottle of wine or
box of chocolates with a red bow
apologize for running a little behind
and leave right after the coffee is served

A poem slips in the side door
like a burglar or a houseguest
quoting the second law of thermodynamics
to explain how the toothbrush
they always carry in their jacket pocket
has settled to the bathroom counter

Admit you left the door unlatched
imagining the woman you once saw
enter the apartment next door
shimmering to your side
a rustle of silk and blue slippers
with gold embroidery on the toes

She's with you now—
feel her warm breath in your ear
the whisper of words she forms
on the tip of your tongue
You fumble for your pen
a scrap of paper
You are
flustered by her poise
distracted by her perfume
and the sudden arrival of
a hairy-chested stranger
with coarse manners and body odour
who simply refuses to leave unless
you hear his story first and
write it all down

every last syllable

Tom Brown is currently conducting experiments in quantum non-locality by living in two cities at once. He can frequently be found on BC Ferries travelling between his house in Nanaimo and his apartment in Vancouver where he works at the university; there have also been reliable reports of sightings of the elusive writer on the #257 Horseshoe Bay Express. This poem is a work of pure imagination. It was created using direct to digital technology following sustainable writing practices: no trees were cut, no pencils were sharpened, no endangered species were put at risk, and no kimonos were opened.