Surely an
invasion
of peculiar
persuasion
they arrived
at the appointed
time, seemingly
friendly enough,
not a hint or
a clue that
things could
get rough,
and I smiled
at myself
for being annoyed
even the slightest bit
after all, this
was my call,
I asked for the
sum of it,
so when they
began the work
to prepare,
I was not
inclined to
be aware,
trying to keep
things normal,
what a jokey/
hokey idea,
they were primed
for blood:
used to the clients
who stick in the
mud,
dig in their toes
when shocked
with a face
peering right through
the window case,
I suppose
they wear
white to assuage
your fears,
knowing that soon
you’ll be up
to your ears
and ready to scream
or escape,
nobody told me
how sure
and boldly
they would slide
their gear
into place,
(and ever so
cleverly take
over my space)
my brain and
my soul
soon out of control:
all of my goods
piled in the center
leaning and greening
while I would
run screaming
away to the beach,
so far out of reach
I could finally
breathe, wondering
how long it would
be till they leave,
trust me with this
there is no greater
bliss than watching
them drive away,
leaving behind
the gleaming sublime
pristine walls
a trumpet call,
you’ve had your
house painted,
and also been sainted:
awake and alive,
you’ve really
survived!

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 12/1/13

Famous lines from
a Nobel Winner
say a man
leaves the room
as a saint
not a sinner,
without the debris
of the recent past,
while a woman’s
role is always cast
in the female
fashion, she
embraces the story
with agonized
passion, taking
each detail
of the soul along
with her,
suffering the
push and
pull of
Come Hither:
a call to arms,
(regardless of
notions or
firey devotions)
the facts
remain clear,
I admit to
be fond of
having
you near,
while changing
my life with
your charms,
and having
disarmed
the barriers of
history
my life is
a mystery
of fathomless
depth, unknown
and alone
until now,
for a light
has broken
the ceiling
and walls
my barriers
are crumbling
and liable to
fall,
the wonderful
warmth of
the human touch
sways the heart
to burst with love,
impossible
unspeakable
a dangerous glove
that fits despite
your tender
embrace
I close my eyes
and I see your face
no expectations
no harm done,
the promise of
more
has me undone,
is there time,
and another sweet
chance
for tender
forboding
and exotic
romance?

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 11/1/13