Wednesday, October 05, 2011

Stories


Cold metal
‘Gainst fragile bone

Clasped in mouth
Upside down

Subway platform
Hmmmm

Everyone has a story.

One worries about the smell.
Disrupting the tempo of lives.

Bathtub
Warm water
Red

Overpass
Cling
Drop
Fly

Everyone has a story

Pow
Crack
Gasp
Sob
Sigh

Finish the story.
Write

The
End

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

Leaves

Red leaves were favored.
Chosen
Studied
Debated
Pressed between waxen sheets.
Hot
Burned fingers
"Et voila."

Better pressed in books.
Large
Heavy
Lost
Forgotten
'Till found a century gone.
Transparent
Disintegrating

"We did that you know.
I remember the day,
With Lulu and Belle.
Oh mon dieu,
We were so gai."

Monday, October 03, 2011

Summer's Leaving

Summer's leaving
Me, with fastness,
Lastingness
I've never known.

Rain drips down,
Continuum to the
Drone of time erasing,
Time erasing ever,
Everlasting time,
Again, never.

Finality surrounds,
Last rush of warm,
Its deluge wet
And burning,
Rouses a last...hope.
No. Summer's gone.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Maire


I couldn't bring myself to post this last May, I was too sad, but now I feel I can. It's an excerpt from my journal.

May 1, 2011

This afternoon I heard that my closest childhood friend had cancer; things did not look good.

Now, a few hours later, I find myself imagining my way through her wake. Burying her before she’s had a chance to heal, to survive, to vanquish that SOB cancer.

Too much death. Not you too Maire.

We are not close. Have not been close since those early prepubescent years. Yet, she’s the one I think of when those awkward, babyfat days come to mind. Not my brothers, always mean, or crying, or dirty diapered. They were legion. They outnumbered me four to one. And sisterless, I sought  out Maire.



May 2, 2011

Dear Maire,
Well, I've been thinking about you. My most positive, warm, hopeful thoughts are with you right now. But I'm sure you know that everyone in this crazy Tevlin family feels as I do, everyone wants you up and around, the sooner the better.

But, enough of that, let me tell you what I've really been thinking about. It's not the middle aged gal that I no longer know very well, and haven't seen in a dog's age who's been on my mind, but that little brown haired version of me....skinny, scary, full of questions, afraid of boys, dogs, and fish touching small white feet whilst swimming in the good ol' Gatineau River. She, like me, is surrounded by younger siblings, has a beautiful mother, and a father who sings....that's what I'm thinking about....the singing girls....

Last night I fell asleep thinking about the evenings we used to spend singing with our 2 Dads. I've never really analysed those evenings but they were magical, the 2 of us, high girlish sopranos, and our 2 fathers, Irish tenors, sweet and sheer. Such simple beauty...so perfect....and so natural we thought nothing of it....just sang what we were told and taught to sing.....lovely days they were my dear Maire.....such fragile delicate memories. We did well with Moonlight Bay...do you remember? And as we grew, and times changed, we adapted the words to modern times. Funny eh? Are we that old?

Get better Mary, you're the closest thing I ever had to a sister.

Much love,

Suzanne