Poems by Timothy Pilgrim

UNHERDED GEESE

Trumpet solo on the edge
of evening sky, candles unlit —
an enduring trait. Not quite like
not catching yourself on fire,
just to be safe. Forget flight
away from South, nooses black,
the rest, white. A safe pond,
by gaggle, by dawn. The hope,
survive night, maybe vote.
Put out of mind they shoot
at darkness until blindness comes.
Bullet after bullet claps
when you say it’s all done
with mirrors. Speed on,
honk when passing,
no tweeting allowed.


HINDSIGHT

An unnecessary comma near the end
of her fiery text creates temporary doubt,
much like an m left out of comma itself
would render me unconscious for months.
Causes rethinking the wisdom to reach out,
mention our sensual encounter last night —
passionate tryst after heated discussion
about eroticism in Rossetti’s Goblin Market.
Clearly prompted her to tap back with fury,
disclaim any romp with flibbertigibbet (me)
who dares to recount reputed nakedness
after nonexistent melt and drip. In hindsight,
understandable, a vicious digital flaming
intended to preempt early pre-supposition.


AUTUMN FALL, YAWN

Boring, Grand Canyon, deep,
ribbon-river below sheared
by sharp cliffs. Wearisome — desert,
parched, stretched out, flat,
red sky lured black. Mundane,
my eyes, swollen, throat cracked.
So pedestrian, the crawl to edge, the lean-out,
the drool, the regret. Very trite,
October light vanishing, gray dusk
swallowed too. Not to mention,
tedious, sleep coming at midnight,
fall reflected by the rising moon.


SURGERY DAZE

Nurse wheels me, gurneyed,
long hall — count back,
let go, dream. I drift to thrift store,
float near saws, buy a wit machine
for a song. Starts, runs, pumps out
slogans, puns, Google ads.
Bumper stickers — stupid, glib,
patriotic puke gagging me.
I aim spout down drain,
watch my blood lead the way.
Last gem to go, Americans —
tolerant, selfless, free.
I awake bandaged, mouth, dry,
tasting of phrase, hint of cliche —
brain, what’s left, half-decayed.