Another Kind of Sunday

Still waiting, in a hurry to hear, 

I went to bed early --

with expectations of a goodnight 

kiss seemingly remote

I traced the shadow of a cygnet across 

the bedroom ceiling, darned 

the socks of our overdrawn cheque book  

until I’d put two and two together.

Five. 

No, perhaps, it’s not that.

I’ve never been comfortable with options:

should I call with Queen Knave off suit, 

leave my shoes outside the door --

how does one begin to calculate which pot

is more likely to turn kettle?

The burden of being parked is never knowing

how far you are from your determinations:

if they’re inching towards or 

already out to sea? As I see it 

the iridescence of an original sin 

is just a prelude --

the resolution of a convert still undecided. 

Ken e Bujold

Reviews

[willweb]

And here I am scratching my head wondering why I didn't go to bed early; Ken seems to have so much fun when he does. And then I think, maybe if I did get more sleep, I would have some sort of idea what the heck he is talking about here. Oh well, it's past my bedtime.

[Neville]

there is something here that I find both compelling and constraining .. its like I want to break free but can't .. indeed, I get the feeling I will be back .. and another thing, maybe that's why I don't like Mondays, yet still love poetry :)

[W. Barrett Munn]

Perhaps another way to say, the answer is blowing n the wind.

Winston

[Ken e Bujold]

:) could very well be.