love

For the Life of Me by Taylor Mali

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One of my favourite poems from one of my favourite slam poets. You can see him perform the poem on YouTube.

For the Life of Me by Taylor Mal

I’m trying to remember the name
of the character I used to
pretend to be when I woed you
The one with the voice like a driveway

Who you said made you laugh
but on whom I think we both know
you had developed a bit of a crush

So unlike the real me, he was
based on this ex-Dallas Cowboy I knew
in graduate shool
who owned a liquor store and a sunlamp

“You’re the kind of woman that
makes a man want to get in touch
with his masculine side and
I don’t think I can love you any more,”

That’s about the dumbest thing
I ever made him say
This character who you said you loved
and made you laugh every time

and whose name I cannot
for the life of me
remember

And speaking of time

I found a digital watch in a bag
that I thought was mine but
was yours although it’s mine now
I guess

and it said, of course, 12:34
1-2-3-4
the magic minute of childhood

of course, that wasn’t the time
at the time, though it is now
the clocks having changed twice
since the day you died

and anyway, that was the time that I said
I was going to come back and
visit you if I died first
remember arguing about that?

about who was going to die first?
me pointing out the history of
cancer in my family

you, not pointing out the history of anything
just taking a long drag of your cigarette
as if to say, “hello? cigarettes!”

I’m willing to admit that
you are right, because
I am the one that is left
although I still think you cheated

and speaking of suicide

I once asked you whether you
ever thought about it and
you said, “no,
you’re not that lucky”

in an answer I recognize now
as being more loaded than
any pistol we never kept under the mattress
which I had to give away anyway

and now I wonder that if you
did come back from the dead
whether I could stop myself from saying,
“See? Apparently I am that lucky.”

speaking of luck

you always said I sucked it
right out of the room
but that was right after you
found out that the word

“Squinters” S-Q-U-I-N-T-E-R-S
“those who squint”
is an acceptable word in Scrabble
lost a turn

I banked 144 points
the overturned board scattered
most of the tiles and there are
still letters that I cannot find

and speaking of letters I never found

you never left me one
never sent me one
never left me a note,
or a sign

as I boxed and gave away
your clothes and packed
up the apartment I kept thinking
that I would find something

all last fall my breath
arrived each day
with the mail

I still think sometimes it might arrive
a padded envelope without
a zip code or missing a stamp
something filled with all the

missing letters
but for now I would be content
to remember the name of the man
who said, “I don’t think I can love you any more”

That man who you said you loved
who I pretended to be
and whose name I cannot remember
for the life of me

The Evolution of a Poem

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Less Than Forward Slash Three (Extended Edition)

I find it amazing
That you cannot actually see
Out of the corners of your eyes
Your brain
Instead of seeing the blackness that actually exists there
Fills in images
Of what it thinks is there

So, every time you see something out of the corner of your eye
Not just the small movements
Of a nervous subconscious but
Your most peripheral vision
It’s because your brain is assuming it’s there
It’s an assumption
An educated guess
Based on the images you see when you look around

That’s why I see you

I see you in the corners of my eyes because
Even my unconscious, rational mind
Cannot understand why
You’re not there
You wouldn’t be here
but I see your face
in the faces of dark men
on street corners and in shops

There are days when
I miss you so much
I will walk up to the dark stranger
Ask him his name, and apologize
As if I didn’t know it wasn’t you

There are pieces of you everywhere
I collect them like pieces of coloured glass
That you find on a beach

Maybe I can make another you

It seems like what may be happening this National Poetry Month is you’ll be witnessing the birth of a poem and its evolution. Sharp eyes will recognize the beginning of this poem as Saturday’s poem. This poem still isn’t complete. Whether it just needs editing, lengthening, shortening, or all of the above, you’ll have to wait and see during the next installment of my National Poetry Month series!

Same bat time, same bat channel. Stay tuned!

Less Than Forward Slash Three

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I find it amazing
That you cannot actually see
Out of the corners of your eyes
Your brain
Instead of seeing the blackness that actually exists there
Fills in images
Of what it thinks is there
So, everytime you see something out of the corner of your eye
Not just the small movements
Of a nervous subconcious but
Your most peripheral vision
It’s because your brain is assuming it’s there
It’s an assumption
An educated guess
Based on the images you see when you look around

That’s why I see you

I see you in the corners of my eyes because
Even my unconscious, rational mind
Cannot understand why
You’re not there

Author’s Note: This poem seems incomplete but this also feels like an excellent place to stop. I have another poem that’s a work-in-progress that may fit nicely tacked onto the end of this one; however I promised poetry, and for once I shall deliver. The accuracy of the science is debatable as I am not a doctor, just a graduate of high school biology.

Writing Prompt #5

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A storm destroys your uncle’s shed and kills his six-year old son. Describe the colour of the sky right before the storm hit.

The day he died, the sky was like any other sky, but bluer. The clouds were the white, fluffy kind where they shape shift into anything you can imagine. When the first drops of rain began to fall, the sky turned ominous. The sky became a blanket of grey, just like the wool of the blanket he slept in as a that time he had scarlet fever. The clouds flashed and banged. I used to tell him that thunder and lightning were just the angels bowling. We spent storms guessing the score: The big ones were strikes, and the smaller ones just knocked down pins. Two close together were spares. But that night, it was a strike that killed him.

What did you think? Would you be interested in hearing the end?

Excerpt #1 – This.

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It was raining; not hard, just enough. It was a warning that a storm was coming. Jake tried to ease me into his car to take me home but I didn’t want to leave. The rain was beautiful, the air was cold, and I didn’t want this moment to end. That’s when he kissed me. I didn’t kiss him back at first. It was like I was half dreaming and I woke up when his lips met mine. He kissed me again, and this time I kissed him back. He was my first kiss and it was amazing. Experiencing it is so much better than reading about it in all those books I have my nose in all the time. The real thing was more passionate, more intimate, and certainly more satisfying. All those things girls who have never kissed a guy worry about, like where to put your hands, if you close your eyes, what you’re supposed to do with your tongue, it all just comes naturally. It’s like kissing is the most natural thing in the world and you’re just supposed to do it all the time. I wouldn’t have believed anyone if they told me that.