I who have so deceived myself
seeing what could only be imagined
Cannot I not then also deceive myself
into believing I am happy again?
Today I wore black and white stripes to school
the t-shirt of a fledgling jailbird.
I tardily took my seat as they closed the door
and smiled the coy smile of one who has confirmed herself to be
properly dressed for an occasion.
the smell of coconut
a bunny in the grass
waiting for me to pass
Unmoving and still
except for his twitching nose
Perhaps he thinks himself
successfully camouflaged or else
he must be exceedingly brave
or exceedingly foolish
Boldly, he holds my gaze
until, smiling, I depart on my way
You have perverted that symbol of life, breath,
contaminated it with the prospect of death
and behind grey fog you like to hide
a face contemplating slow suicide.
The stack of books never ceases to grow
I gaze fondly upon the titles
like one admiring wall art.
Inside one of them, Derek Walcott whispers
that the rustle of tree leaves is a lament
for all the pages of unread books.
This too has become white noise.
I have given over collecting images and ideas
for the satiating vision of prospective knowledge
–the promise of a tomorrow in which those vessels
will unleash all of their finely bound secrets.
How the roaring waters part at your mighty water paw
How your wet coat gleams in the valiant sunlight
How your razor jaw cleaves the helpless greens
No heart may lie still in the breasts of men at the mere sight of you
What a fearsome beast is the Duckling