~Through the miracle of modern timing~A Poem by Lisa Hickey
Yesterday, you were the quick brown fox that jumped over the lazy dog; you were alphabet soup, ((you were anything but blood and bones, you were the last love letter sent by sailing ship across the stormy seas.)) You were black and white characters on a blank screen. ((you were not lips and fingers and mouth and heartbeat.))
Today, you are a long, low train whistle that builds, intensifies. ((you are not the abstract characters you were yesterday.)) You are the hurricane lantern made by punching holes in a coffee can. ((you are not words.)) You are an unopened bottle of gin, chaste as it sits on the formica counter on a Sunday afternoon.
Tomorrow you will become the lightning that scars the sky.
Stepping back, I see that you were / you are / you will be / I was
just yesterday, the numbers of time ticking down my computer clock. ((I was not the clever anecdote I thought I was.)) Today, I am a cancan dancer, canary grass, a game of canasta. ((I am not the 18th century portrait of a girl with a face the color of lonely)). I am the glass that holds the gin in the now opened bottle, the one that must be drunken so confidently it will not burn going down.
Tomorrow I am almost certain I will be the murmur of thunder, recoiling as it slips away on a sultry summer afternoon.
© 2010 Lisa Hickey
AboutI create stuff -- poetry, non-fiction, design, photography, blog posts, comedy routines, ads, businesses. Here I'll be posting mostly poetry, but feel free to connect with me anywhere you find me onli.. more..