from Brightcity Storyline #2

4

You may concern your Sunday
morning with the elves, history
is filled with virgins longing
to be lawyers, or veterinarians,
but who got pregnant before the exams
and were made to leave home
on an ass, when this was still a shame,
in the days before Dependent Parent benefits,
on a sunny Wednesday in Rome,
or Vanuatu, from a small entropic town,
at the back of the bus, brushing the screen,
brushing the whole thing off
in their headphones, playing the.. ..sounds
like the playbook of the driven to deceive.

4.1

I have held them by their jeans
belt, seeing they were adding to
the sorrow in the well Tears evaporate

before they ever reach the end.
I have lingered, in their lingerie,
upmarket in my solitary, found

a superior state
freed from
the common accidents
reported in
Religion’s orphanage—
not exclusively, but victims

in the poorer suburbs,
treeless zones
waiting for the bottom to fall out.

I have had a calling, really,
to collect up all my feelings,
and a map be made of all my thoughts,
to predict that reading-eyes expect.
I, and I alone,

climbed out. Or so I thought,
but all around me

others, solo mothers,
from the concuss of their falls,
climbed out and out alone

into The Light
into the logarithmic semblance of
the clouds.

 

 

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