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Jodie-Elaine Jun 2020
As with all great losses,
not very much from here forward can be the same.
Applaud on your way out.
Despondently, once again, Mavis begins to play.
Jodie-Elaine Jun 2020
If I had to say something now, in this moment of a great nonsensical sense of loss it would be that I too, can’t stop falling in love but am stuck in the 1950s, I can’t carry a tune or stand in line so there is very little hope, they said hope was the last thing in the jar, and when the lid slammed shut, we were saved from it all. That earth angel knew what she was doing, wholly like a lock of blonde hair from Doris Day, when she set the paper moon on fire, and I guess Bobby knew it too, when he dunked it underwater, hoping to send it somewhere flameless and soggy, beyond the sea. I cried into the moon, tripping over my slippers and I put my head on the bookcases’ shoulder, Paul Anka and Chubby Checker themselves couldn’t quench the tears, I was twisted you see, and I didn’t think it could be the same again. Time to put the cardboard cut-out down, the picket signs chopped to fences and I dragged my toes, I fell in love with the plastic walls, the table I built and a thick, encompassing sense of home, like a teenager in love, I don’t know why they did it but the high crooning voice of Lymon helped me unstick from the walls. Some spirit of left creativity, me and my bereftment belong together, tied when Ritchie Valens dropped us down behind the chest of drawers, I yelled to grab a hand, but it fell quietly onto the curtain pole, impaling itself. Nathaniel entered the room, came looking but answered the ringing with a “Hey, Mama” and left. I couldn’t save my own last dance, I didn’t know that I was it, it drifted and said it would meet me someplace. It said it would meet me when the air clears, it’s getting late and tonight I look something dear and washed up. I miss you so dearly, send me. I hadn’t known that that would be it, this impressive but horrific amalgamation, and I’ve been here for too long.
The screen is dark and blank, I can’t see anything past it here.
Here in this empty space where it all was.
Jodie-Elaine Jun 2020
Take me home
My heart is tired and sad
By the warm microwave light
I’ve got the blues
Jodie-Elaine Jun 2020
No energy ever dies.
I put you near my bathroom sink,
in the hope your energy tells me nice things
in the morning.
Jodie-Elaine Jun 2020
God is a hungover slob
who doesn’t wear pants,
I will miss you like a house on fire.
Jodie-Elaine Jun 2020
It’s like you never left the kitchen sink footed dance floor. I often feel that something like a familiar round face shrunk in the wash, the tight perm cut down to salt and pepper hair, my mother’s mother is in the kitchen sink and she said she will miss us all so dearly, quietly.
The smudge of a bottom lip and your colour stains on the fridge. I wanted to paint a smile on in electric blue and take it for a spin.
The perfect love story told itself in a gentlemanly manner from the tulip patch, the perfumed window smiled gracefully. It became a little too terminal.
The small kitchen has been kept up so wonderfully like a pretty ‘do. You asked if I could see it, your hair on all the faucets.
Your arms shrank in diameter by approximately 37% when you tried to wrap it all together with blanket stitch, let us all blame it on the waltzing carpet and ignore the humming of the bed legs. I know we are not to whom it may concern, not yet anyways, but let me lead this marigold game of charades.
Of all contrary beginnings I saw the sink disrobed and I so sincerely hugged the bathtub whole. There’s no further treatment for the yellow bricks, you danced around the dining table and painted the clouds navy. I put the wrong key to my blue mouth and the whole room applauded in chartreuse as a chorus at the tragic song.
Your dance partner tipped the water down the sink, broke it and forgot your favorite picture. I asked myself the sheer weight, that of intimacy. I imagined maybe in baby blue it had been done somewhere 56 years earlier, only to roll off the tongue pink and screaming.
I wonder if it had been you, I danced with slowly. I wandered downstairs and my teeth buzzed when I got near the washing line for delicates, like us, that is. I stared into the warm light of a microwave that hadn’t been invented yet and when my slippers were finally warm, I pulled out my photo album.
I spoke out loud and we had a cup of tea in the mugs you liked, we laughed about jam sandwiches and sitting still.
She told me dearly to pay attention to the cardigans, to eat my bananas and she went to meet my mother at the gate.
She kissed my cheek and they were both gone, the grandfather clock melted into the sunken eyed house cat.
A tired but harmonic rendition passed me your dancing shoes. I hope you still visit.
Jodie-Elaine Jun 2020
Dear god I miss you
and I dance to the blues
feeling sick all the while
my toes are anemic
there’s a frog in my throat
it’s all a bit wrong
and we dance to the blues
two left feet all the while
it doesn’t quite suit us
these bathroom tiles on the floor
the ballroom dancing to the blues
we don’t touch all the while
dear god I miss you
I haven’t seen you in weeks
it’s all a bit wrong
and all a bit blue.
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