muon

muon

A Poem by h d e rushin

 

 

I haven't been exactly truthful. The squirrels despise

marigolds. Why else just cut off the heads with purpose

to scatter in my yard? Could they be a sort of opiate

that induces rest; quiets uneasiness? And I noticed, just

this morning, your breasts sagging like i've never seen

before, like a shirt pocket which made us both laugh.

Thats when you told me that 'age makes the moon red'

not the horizon. When we, holding hands, painted

"Soul Brother" on our garage to save it from the flames

in 68 and that feeling that nothing as good as this can die.

At least not like my old Dell. No last faint breaths there.

No final good words, yellow and waxy. Just no more, a blinking

black cursor and a lifetime lost forever. Placed in a corner

like a dying soldier being triage, hoping that the end of spring

would come, sooner than later, so other lives could be attended

to.

And the morning glory, Convolvulaceae

something trumpeted; something that is taught

or anxiously stitched on the cloth of old trousers,

or a flag to fly in the night sky.

I think we might be getting too

crazy for toothpaste kisses.

© 2013 h d e rushin


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One of the 5 leptons, believed not to have any substructure, partially negative in chagre, partially with us in spin. A relatively long half life; fairly stable. Perfect metaphor for a gentle and amusign and desparign look at the small and great betrayals and joys of life. I particularly was struck by the squirrel hating marigolds and the nuances of the spray-painted garage. The computer crash? Horrible horrible stuff. The stuff nightmares are made from; maybe even moreso than anxiously waiting for riots to settle and life to resume back to normal. The only way to wake up and prove to yourself it happened- gone. Samll things shped like hate-filled squirrels (ask me some time about why I have 4 pelts on my radiator in CT) go rioting maybe into those corners where sunlight plays tricks and it is hard to tell if it is light or dark or some of each, or maybe just worn red and calloused with age?

Beautiful and thought-provoking, dana.

Posted 11 Years Ago



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Added on June 11, 2013
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Author

h d e rushin
h d e rushin

detroit, MI



About
black american poet living in detroit. more..

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Short- Short-

A Poem by h d e rushin