I will take my time as I unravel the binds
That you laced around your figure,
My fingers handling the intricate knots with care,
And I will be attentive to every truss,
Making sure I get each one undone.
Slowly, you will disentangle from the
Untidiness that restricts and I will witness
The birth of your galaxies as you finally
Take a step out of your restraints.
You are my work of art,
My beautiful silhouette of an angel that
Was trapped far too long by the weight
Of the world that you encompassed.
I knew all along what lay beneath the cocoon
That you sheltered yourself in and,
As you take your first step with no hindrances,
I watch as you blossom into radiant colors,
Abstract light that brightens your face
And reveals your true essence.
I know in that moment,
That you are the most stunning butterfly
I have ever come across and
Every knot untied
Was worth it.

All the changes I've made
are not making a change.
Taking things out of one box
putting them in another
throwing away things
that used to mean something.
Moving furniture.
Looking at old pictures,
reminiscing.
Longing for something,
but what I don't know.
It's weird to sleep without you tonight.  
I'll open the window because you like it that way.
But when I stretch out my cold feet,
to find you, you're not there.
But the mess on my floor is looming at me,
and it tells you to go away until all is
straightened, organized, clean
my obsessive tendencies in every aspect of my life.
I should be sleeping now,
but the untidiness is keeping me awake.
And, you're not here to tell me to let it go.
Sometimes I need you like that.
Obsessive, organized chaos.
I clean like I need you,
my obsessions.
And I'm sorry for that.

I know of the nights you were afraid of the moon.
You’ve told me how when you were a child you run from it because it was chasing you.
But you’ve grown to learn that being afraid of the moon is like being afraid of your own shadow.
I know of the nights that it still haunts you, though.
I know of the nights when you prefer to stay under a roof than to go outside and see the wide, night sky
Because you see, I know of the nights that you despised the moon for being too proud
Outshining the numerous stars that are giving all they got, even their life, just to catch our attention.
You said that one day she’ll come and get you.
That the tin roof above you would no longer be enough to hide you from her piercing eyes and one day she’ll finally come and get you.
That one day, she’ll outshine you too.

I remember that night when you told me you couldn’t answer my call because
You were too busy silencing the craters of the moon crashing in your room.
And I believed you.
I believed you for you always liked the darkness of your room. You always liked the clutter of your ***** laundry overflowing its basket, the crumpled papers of what you call “trash poetry”
mixing up with wrappers of chocolates and coffee powder and your ***** laundry and ---
You always liked to curl up in your tiny bed, not minding its untidiness
because you never had the strength to fix it this morning.
I always wanted to tell you that
I should be the one to say sorry for not being there for you.
I’m sorry that the only thing I could give you is a call.
I’m sorry I couldn’t even open your windows and tell you that the moon is already gone, and the sun is already shining bright and the world is waiting for you.
You, little son of the sun, should not stay in the dark.
I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of the dark.
But I wish I could tell you that you were made to outshine the moon and everything else.
You were made to turn night to day.

I have too many wishes, too many words I wish I could tell you
Like how it is not your fault
It was never your fault and never going to be your fault
That we are but a speck of dust, a mere human that destiny is not something we can overpower
Well, we might move it a little if we struggle a bit harder
But some circumstances can just happen out of nowhere.
I wish I was more talkative so I could’ve silenced the whispers
I wish my voice was enough to silence the whispers
I could’ve screamed to the top of my lungs or even higher
Just to save you from falling too deep and drowning under your covers.

But we are nothing but a moon apart, never meant for each other right from the start
Yet with this time I got I hope you’d let me stay and fight
To become stronger, to become better, not only to save myself but to save you from this dark night
For you, my mighty knight, is worth saving too.
No, you are not merely worth saving but worth loving, worth keeping, worthy of everything that this night is hiding
And you deserve that.
So with this time I got I hope you’d keep me inside your heart so you will float
And I could dive under your covers to save you
Or I could climb to your roof to cover you
Keep the craters of the moon from hitting you.
And not let the moon overshadow you until you learn to put her brightness to shame.

I wish we could be
alone more
Yiska said
we sat looking across

the playing field
school in the distance
modern building
glass and brick

and concrete
me too
I said
the sun allowed us this

if it had rained
we would not
have been here
sitting on the field

we'd be stuck inside
the hall
kicking our heels
or classrooms

doing puzzles
or games in boxes
boys kicked *****
girls sat talking

in groups
loud laughter
there are always eyes
out here

she said
tongues wag
gossip starts
I dreamed of you

last night
I said
I dreamed we were alone
in my room

side by side
in my bed
I wish I shared
that dream

she said
I dreamed
of my mother
and her low mood

and her moaning
about my room
and the untidiness
and she jabbing

my back
with each word
some boy scored a goal
between coats

on the field
and boys yelled
what did we do?
she asked

leaning closer
when?
I said
in your dream

she said
I don't know
I said
I woke up

and left the dream
in my head.

That was the night
I dreamed of Yiska

and she met me
at the back
of the cottage
by the woods

and it seemed summer
it was warm
birds sang
and flowers
were showing off
their colour
and perfume

and she stood there
and smiled and said
I made it here
what do you think?

good to see you
I said

and it was
and I ran to her
before she could
disappear as they do
in dreams

and she kissed me
and it felt real
and warm
and arousing

and we walked
into the woods
and she talked
about her
mother's depression
and how her mother
moaned about
the untidiness
of her room

I thought yes
she is here
and I reached
for her hand
and held it
and felt
with my thumb
her skin

it felt pulsing
and alive
and she talked more
but I wasn't listening

I was trying
to feel her hand
deeper
more alive
than most dreams

and then we stopped
and we were by
the big pond

and she said
let's go swim
let's go swim
**** naked

and I thought
I can't swim
I’ll drown

and woke up
and pulled
the warm
blanket down.

The time glass

The morning takes a longer time awakening
the sun is hesitant hides in the east before showing its might.
The wind is blowing low at the entrance
it tires me out breathing becomes laborious.
I made dinner myself my wife has gone to the hospital to see
if her brother is well enough to live with us, if not we have
to send him to a place for those chronically ill.
I remember when my mother was no longer able to cope
we sent her to a home, she hated it, and in despair stopped eating.
We thought we were doing good, but we only did what was expedient for us.
I regret this she could live longer at her own home with
with a helper coming in once a day, my mother was not that
helpless she could make her coffee in the morning
and boil an egg, it was her untidiness people reacted against
books and magazines were cluttering up the home.
She liked her self rolled cigarettes and brandy which offended
the righteous.
My sin was I should have spoken up but sided with the many
who thought what was best for her.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                   Old Mr. ‘Possum and the Moon

Old Mr. ‘Possum is a garbageman
Who quietly works his appointed nightly rounds
Unappreciated as he tidies this
And cleans up that, all without any fuss

The other animals don’t seem to like him much
For his wobbling, waddling walk, his untidiness
His pointy nose, his all-draggledy tail
And his awkward shape like a loaf of oaf

But when he lifts his eyes to the queen of the skies
He knows that to her he is a knight in disguise