8.20.2009
8.12.2009
8.03.2009
A poem by Susanne Parker
When we are well
We will do all the things that normal people do.
We'll wear modest, stylish attire
Befitting our age. I'll have a silver chain
With a pendant made from some exotic stone,
And you'll admire it when we meet at the cafe
For a catch up chat.
I'll talk about my husband
(I'll have one of those by then)
And you will, too. And you'll tell me
How he bought a dog for your little boy.
And you'll buy my coffee but I'll leave the tip
In nickels on the glass top table. Boring little things.
I'll still remember that there are scissor
scars on your stomach, but I won't look there. And if
You glance at my jaw and it is swollen,
You won't mention the screws.
Noone will think it strange that you order only cold drinks-
After all, it's a hot day.
Before we get up to leave
Our eyes will meet across the table.
We'll only smile. Only go back
To those normal, normal
normal deeds.
Strangers will wonder how we discover so much joy
At merely being alive.
We will do all the things that normal people do.
We'll wear modest, stylish attire
Befitting our age. I'll have a silver chain
With a pendant made from some exotic stone,
And you'll admire it when we meet at the cafe
For a catch up chat.
I'll talk about my husband
(I'll have one of those by then)
And you will, too. And you'll tell me
How he bought a dog for your little boy.
And you'll buy my coffee but I'll leave the tip
In nickels on the glass top table. Boring little things.
I'll still remember that there are scissor
scars on your stomach, but I won't look there. And if
You glance at my jaw and it is swollen,
You won't mention the screws.
Noone will think it strange that you order only cold drinks-
After all, it's a hot day.
Before we get up to leave
Our eyes will meet across the table.
We'll only smile. Only go back
To those normal, normal
normal deeds.
Strangers will wonder how we discover so much joy
At merely being alive.
8.02.2009
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