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Jun 2014
gray grey, the athletic color,
of this uniformed tunic,
you'd know instantly,
no matter how one spells it

the navy lettering fading nicely,
time delayed capsules of soap,
eroding it,
as per schedule

the collar,
if I may permission granted
to describe the aperture hole
for thereย the head thinks to emerge,
separating, the seam having suffered
the slings and arrows of intercontinental
washing devices who knew not tenderness
in the dry and rumble tumble cycle of life

having taking to the graveyard a
pale blue Gap thin one, stained with red badges,
courageous Heinz ketchup bloodied medals of repasts glorious,
that resisted my entreaties
and numerous stain stick applications,

I concede to her entreaties
and mark it upright,
consigned to be ferried to the dump,
for a state funeral,
dead and buried,
silence, its last protesting verb

but not my Old Navy
matching beard color one,
the one in which I write this,
and so many other oeuvres

sentimental and memorizing
each little pockmarked hole,
so overcome of the notion of its dispatch,
stalk off to the crest overlooking
my beloved beach, and
the bunnies and the ants ask,
poet,what ails ya?

I cannot lie to them,
my co-creators,
and co-inspirators

I have seen better days and better poets
come past, striding on the beach
with purpose and clairvoyant craft,
with no looking back,
glorious their facile winged tongues and feet

my garb, my skills, like my
Old Navy T shirt,
pockmarkedย and worn,
she wants to take it too,
but when I read my old work,
weep loudly but demi-privately,
for I am clearly spent,
yet I refuse her begging "requests"

the better best part of me, rent,
I fear they will soon come
for me and my declining residuals,
like they did for,
King Lear and Humpty Dumpty

me, in the T shirt,
no more

for all the King's Men,
and his sailors of the wordy seas,
will know I am beyond repair,
cannot be put back to where I once was,
so out to the bay,
taking me there to reside,
burial at sea,
nonetheless dis'd by an honorable death

for that is the only way,
they can final extinguish
all at once, all of
the last of these grayed embers,
that flicker bright before they
self extinguish
~~~~~~~~~~~
3:47pm Silver Beach,
June 29, 2014
after re-reading,
Evening-tide: Dementia, King Lear, Humpty Dumpty and Me
Nat Lipstadt
Written by
Nat Lipstadt  M/nyc
(M/nyc)   
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