tallying the day’s efforts – a writing exercise

woke earlier than wanted
later than I ought

could not remember
my dreams

walked the dogs
and watched the juncos

tried to write
nothing would take

sipped bad coffee
and wished for better

had no food for the chickadee
sitting on my window sill

cried for the loss
of a neighbor’s dog

listened to trees
and urged them on

grew too shy
to join in the conversation

blushed too brightly
when someone was kind

smoked too many cigarettes
and got a bit tipsy

waited for someone
who did not come

would not have been
brave enough anyway

fell asleep
tallying the day

probably won’t remember
my dreams

© Sarah Whiteley

Have decided to use this idea as a sort of writing exercise for myself. Might post a few here and there, but really it’s intended to get the internal dialogue happening – to see if I can transition into the beginnings of a poem somewhere. I have to say, it was kind of fun and yes, even a little bit fruitful.

unforeseen complications

it’s easy enough to say
it’s complicated
and leave it at that

truth is I’ve conjured
enough complications to keep
anyone at arm’s length

a definite divide
to keep separate
your skin from mine

I never guessed
you would simply lean
over the fence

© Sarah Whiteley

for a while

you were the sea

and no more could
I turn you away
than a sparrow could
the rumblings of a storm

but for a while
I wore you like raindrops
on feathers

© Sarah Whiteley

a finer way of falling

you were not there
while I waited beneath
the sudden rain for a bus
that moved somehow
swifter for not
carrying you along with me
as if Time slows
within your sphere
pausing for the same
hint of hesitation
I seek out each morning
that your eyes slide
unheedingly on
even the driver sees
it is you I read
and not the book
lying agape upon my lap
but it was when
you were not there
that soft and sudden
I discovered how this
untouched want may be
a finer way of falling

© Sarah Whiteley

light resides

light resides
in the quiet crook
of your elbow
were I to unbend it
or raise my head
from where my hair
loves the smooth
turns of you
it would surely escape
fly out the open window
pulling along behind
the rest of me
flushed as birds
from fields at dusk

© Sarah Whiteley

poppy-winged

if I could fold wings for words
of red-petaled poppies
and affix them gently with a pin
I would launch a fleet of these
to flit and twit as sparrows
and settle in your trees
and whispering arrange themselves
so that waking you will see
poppy-winged my heart
spell out the love
that sleeps in me

© Sarah Whiteley

a small goodbye

did you mark how I watched,
taking stealthy measure
of the space (three paces) between
– flinging distance –
but I, too shy to chance it
make this then a small goodbye
though the soft twistings of your hands,
fingers among fingers,
twisted me unbearably into longing
and I, whose fingers
held the maybe of yours,
could not keep you
and could not let you go

© Sarah Whiteley

*

soft now
and you unknowing
in rings of green
I will string you
and like a child
in dandelions bedecked
I will drape here
the cool bloom of you
where my fingers
may twine and trail
restless
in the loops
of your hair

© Sarah Whiteley

remembering in October

mine is not a life without sky
but like a pebble pocketed
and half forgotten
my fingers will brush
the cool smoothness of you
and be startled into sadness
for the space of a long heartbeat
or a breath lightly held
before moving on beneath
the sighing lull of yellowing trees
mine is not a life without sky
though there are times
I can feel the edges of it
following along beside
wearing your scent,
carrying your sound,
and casting our words
to the leaves at my feet

© Sarah Whiteley

imperfect symmetries

you and I were
imperfect symmetries
of bow and bend
where clavicles met
and launched
a thousand windless
stars to rise
as butterflies
white above
that stretch
of grass beyond
the thereafter thrust
of hushful elm
where alone was
forever and right
I think if bones
were home
yours would reside
in mine

© Sarah Whiteley