re-attempt/s.

can't sleep.

a collection of images filling up brain. yes, all women. yes, yes, all not mine. and yes, damn.

i have to admit this, poetry is not going be a sufficient substitute. but short of everything else, it must do. here's some re-attempt at a couple i posted here (i think, lazy to check)

***

the 2 g.koh gpa-"inspired" remixes.

Husband-less (remix)

So
he is dead.
Finally

he is only
a newspaper clipping
that would yellow,
and fold away
into her routine.

At least now,
over the space
of these next few years
she could rewrite him
entirely into myth

where he is blameless
and she is his only
heroine, priestess
of his cult, loyally

tending to him
on that altar,
his 15 centimetres worth
of dead space, and totally
insensitive
to everything
she once
believed of him.

***

Strolling (remix)

Apa holds my boy’s hand
as they paddle their feet
across the start of the sea
together.

My son believes
he could staple each wave
to the sand with just a stomp
of his precious foot.

I know my father's reactions by heart.
I am his son and I laugh with
him at my boy's antics.
I hear it in the labour of his chuckles
as they drum the air.
It won’t be long now

when my son’s grip shall rival,
then exceed his,
and I shall be made
to stand there, watching
his weaken, droop,

reminding my son not to cry, and
hoping that I could bind
his existence to us
just by holding on to his hand.

***

the stinker from 2 posts prior.

***

The Test

Another unsuccessful applicant
crying in the adjacent bathroom.
Washing me
off her hands,
right now.
Any minute now,
she would slam that door.

Pity.
I fancied her.
her fragile Chinese cut and
that talcum feel,
I lost my grip
trying to slip my arms around
her schoolgirl waist,
faking laughter
as we fell.

I was fooling myself
with her hair.
Purposely short, so she could be
freed from bonds,
like yours.
That perfume;
I would have bought the same one for you.
i would have gone right there and then.
Tasting her lips,
I think I called your name
post impact.

I set this up.
Practically asked for it.
Halfway through the flight
of stairs leading up to all this,
I suspected she would excel
in the mimicry of you.
I depended on it.

***

yeah, finally sleepy. shall sleep on it, see whether tomorrow could have turned these into more stinking bastards.


reading: simic's a wedding in hell. i like his kind of evil.
listening to : the 2 grandfather clocks beat the time. believe it or not, it helps me sleep.

__