Tonight Michelle is being adored and
showered with plane tickets. I am waiting
in the cold for Michelle. I have two scarves
wrapped around and around and around
my neck like a bandage. Jeez, Michelle.
I am learning to express my rage. Learning to throw
cellphones and refuse macaroni. I am practicing now
while I watch the glue sniffers find shelter
from the Southerly. At night Te Papa is just windbreaks
and concrete umbrellas and shells to light fags in. Michelle,
even if you leave someone waiting in a beautiful place,
the will still feel the wait. I am walking away
from the water now. I am walking towards Cuba.
Michelle, I’ll always love you but, mate,
you are all broadcast and no reception.
From The Comforter by Helen Lehndorf
Published by Seraph Press
Used with the permission of Seraph Press
This poem has been posted as part of the Tuesday Poem scheme
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