Read The Empty Tarmac of a Long-Abandoned Airport: 23 Poems about Separation Page 1

The Empty Tarmac of a Long-Abandoned Airport:

  23 Canoe Poems about Separation

  By Lenny Everson

  rev 1

  Copyright Lenny Everson 2011

  This free ebook may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.

  Cover design by Lenny Everson

  ****

  List of Poems

  When the Words Stopped

  Don’t Wait Too Long

  The Quarry

  But He’s a Good Boy Anyway

  How do Souls Become Lost?

  How do People Become Separated?

  Does God Care?

  Why is the Church Silent?

  When is it Funny to be a Slave?

  Ashes

  What Must We Never Let the World Forget?

  By the Red River

  Taking a Trip to the Past

  Cages for Women

  Should a Bed Have a Zipper?

  Should a Bed Have a Zipper?

  What Should We Throw Away?

  What is Wealth?

  If I Have a New Home Can I Eat My Ceriel on a TV Tray?

  Unfinished Poem

  Asking for Better Hues

  Bulletin Board

  Here is the Loose End

  About the Poems

  Dedication:

  To all those for whom the future has become more important than the past.

  ****

  When the Words Stopped

  (When a relationship is in trouble, the words get fewer. When the words stop, someone’s packing a suitcase.)

  When the words stopped

  My world became the empty tarmac

  Of a long-abandoned airport

  The hangars leaning

  A paper coffee cup from yesterday’s traffic

  Blowing by.

  To be left in silence

  Is a violence of emptiness

  A world without words

  For me

  Is the sun going down

  The gray dusk washing in.

  I was born the biological entity

  Of companionship

  Needing touch occasionally, and

  Always

  Kind words.

  When the words stopped

  The cold and distant stars

  Took vengeance against

  This woman

  ****

  Don’t Wait Too Long

  (Sometimes, the ticking clock affects a person’s dreams. it’s a sign – don’t wait.)

  I didn’t know what to do when

  That indigo train came hurtling

  Out of the darkness

  Of my dream

  Again

  I woke to the feel of iron

  Pounding granite. I guess

  Somedays I am white, feet crushing granite

  Someday I may be brown, becoming an eagle

  The shaking was only my heart

  Fran, distant friend

  Died last week.

  Elizabeth, cousin,

  Has arthritis, real bad

  I saw a Grosbeak in summer

  Wrong place, bird

  You should be up north

  In the silence of tamarack

  Every now and again

  I see that train at night

  Running down a maverick moose

  On a lonely track

  Among the poplars

  Always poplars

  The moonlight on its flanks

  The train always dark

  As the grave.

  ****

  The Quarry

  (Sometimes, the one you’ve lost is yourself.))

  Soft and wide in the morning

  the nets go out

  as fine as

  spiderwebs

  Hung from limb

  tied to tree

  staked deep and looped round

  solid granite rock

  they cover the road

  where night meets day

  Out of a night

  of angel flights

  the quarry comes

  to seek the daily

  sunshine husk

  And nights and lights

  and Barbie dolls

  years and fears

  pale pink walls

  woven into

  finest mesh

  It happens quite often like this

  After the escape, the net

  must be woven again

  finer yet

  Last night I remembered a birthday party

  when I was twelve.

  This was added

  to tighten the mesh

  In the morning light

  with nets drawn tight

  once again

  I wait for me.