It's Still Life

The Gaps in Life A view between the blinds. Evergreens, so evergreen Against white birch whose Limbs, bared and tangled Pry open the snowy sky.  It’s a straight backed view, Ghostly pale, weather-beaten.  And down the hallway, a child coughs.  She wants a family photo. We stand. On the dock. You here. You there. You, too.In front of the Christmas tree.For this…

There’s a soft, ample-sized woman, who lives next to the old Norman church. She’s the landlady at the Frog’s Hole pub, where neighbours wage eternal war on Friday and Saturday nights.  Stop shovelling your snow on my roses, howls the recently widowed Joan, she’s leaning from her bedroom window. Shut up and go away, snaps the man next…

Breakfast at 2 Hours Past Noon Hash browns, white pepper, salt And ketchup, two bright-eyed eggs, Basted. Crispy bacon and Raisin toast with Blood red jam, and Cups of coffee, black and hot as Tallahassee nights. And there’s White noise From a wall-mounted TV That fills the middle ground with Conversation from a war-torn town.…

To Dream of Sleep I hear him yawning. It’s a long, sorrowful sound, like a moaning loss for whatever it is that we sleep for. AI Digital Art: created using Midjourney’s bot (v4b) Image and poem ©Misky 2022 Shared on Twitter #amwriting

The Piano The piano goes in the basement.Dad insisted. He said he couldn’thear the TV when I practised. Our piano was missing two back wheels.Lost them when the piano fell downthe basement stairs. It was a laid-back thing. Looked drunkup against the cement block wall.That wall, always wet during winter. Just opposite it was a…

Plummeting A bit of weather’s coming.Arctic air, sharp as a hawk’s beak, and snowcreeping down the map. Pale and shiny.White as an albatross. It melts our houses. AI Digital Art: created using Midjourney’s bot (v4b) Image and poem ©Misky 2022 Shared on Twitter #amwriting

Opening Windows The world is broken and glued,he says with a bone-grinding calm. We two are like cheques,nobody expects us to be balanced. He’s making a sandwich,bologna, or something that looks like it,and he asks if I want one. Thank you, no. I answer. And he recalls when he’d pop around the cornerfor a smoke,…