Tag Archives for photography

How to Kill a Bird

And this is my last one, I think. 

“The last one!”

I scream it into the empty fridge. 
I think of moonscape-induced boredom. 

I think of poorly made mugs,

thin pottery. 
A mug that needed coffee dumped in, 

the microwave that lit it up,

sparks dancing around handle and rim.
I send you notes, suggestions. 

I play hangman with your ghost. 
SPOILER ALERT
Every answer is “over.”
I’m embarrassed that I did not die. 

It makes those years feel weirdly vague 

and inconsequential. 
I grapple with the memory of our life, 

choke-hold it slow. 
I want to want to die. 
Your memory evokes a stale taste, 

cold beans on toast. 

Your mother’s words that made

my eyes 

water and spill over. 

The incredible embarrassment that followed. 
“Do you cry in front of your son?”
That, my flint striking powder,

that my incredulous gaze, 

dumbfounded. Aghast.   
“YES YES YES”
I barely remember you.

I wish I did. 

I wish for torment.

I wish regret. 
Your voice runs in and out of my ear 

like lake water 

when I call about money. 
I wish to be prostrate in front of

an imagined God. 

I want to want to die. 
Instead I am sowing sunflower seeds

left over from 

the ones we nurtured in pots,

unaware the roots would stunt. 
Watching them come up,

tear shaped buds

leaning towards sunlight.  
Completely unaware,

completely unconcerned,

with those 

that died at our feet. 

Port St. Joe, Nov 2015

Redcar, Northern UK – Winter 2013, “Would ‘sorry’ have made any difference?”

 

 

 

 

IMG_1911 IMG_1690 IMG_1907

 

“Would ‘sorry’ have made any difference? Does it ever? It’s just a word. One word against a thousand actions.”  – S. Ockler