Friday, December 18, 2009

Wings

If wings hadn't been introduced
to shoulder blades then no one
would be flying around looking all ecstatic
and befuddled while catching cold air.
There'd only be tiny ponies chewing oats
from ratty buckets outside right now.
There are mornings and then there are
golden glimpses of something totally
amazing like awe or coffee. In this instance
I would like to simply point out to you The New York
Times in a blue bag with my name on it.
Kisses could be delayed by days or even months.
The paper says you have independent modes
of transportation so I'll meet you half-way
there with my jittery self.
Morning will never be called off
due to budgetary constraints or even heartbreak.
By afternoon there will be plush green pillows
strewn on the lawn waiting for my body.
I can hardly wait.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love this poem. Thanks TC.

11:39 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Brilliant.

2:16 PM  
Blogger joanna said...

Yeah, man. That's what I'm talking about! Thank you for that.

4:07 PM  
Anonymous matt at shadow of iris said...

"If wings hadn't been introduced
to shoulder blades then no one
would be flying around looking all ecstatic

Beautiful!

11:52 PM  

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