yakksoho
Bluelighter
Methuselah
Methuselah was my father
And Cain is my uncle
We had bed spreads of rock
And granite lavatories
With no windows
Jail houses
Down the street
Were more tidy
Than my mother's hair
Methuselah was my brother
And I loved him like a pet
Kept quiet we under the porch at night
'Till Mum thought we had run off
With the neighbour's youngest daughter
We had to keep the dog quiet
By tying him to the toilet
And feeding him crackers
Methuselah was my auntie
And he carried me in a straw hat
Until I had grown enough to pull the cat's tail
Belts and panty hose
Hung like feathered roses
And plaid teatrays
Lined the walls like linoleum
Eyelashes never felt sweeter
Methuselah was my mother
And she fed me from a basket
Filled with warm cookies
And toast without butter
She was fat as the moon
And a swarm of crickets
Played in her shadow
Coffee was reserved
For special occasions
And for pouring on stonemasons
Methuselah was the moon
And the stars in my childhood
And has since become the ocean
I live in a land locked country
And look out my window at night
For lightning beetles and iridescent flies
To land on daffodils on the horizon
When I pick daffodils from over there
To bring to my mother
They always die ten yards before the house
If I squint I can see them
Undulate into fœtuses
Methuselah was my neighbour
He brought me milk and corn
And post cards
From places that had them
He brought me insects in jars
Who try to kiss you when you touch the glass
And who hiss like cats
When you try to pick them up
He laughed and told me
That he won them in a poker game
Methuselah was my lover
And lonely nights
Became garnered and kept
With sundries in silver boxes
Ornaments for Christmas trees
Were exiguous that year
He bought me a pocket watch
To go with the fire in my eyes
And the ivy in my pants
When we gave phonographs to each other
Last Christmas we laughed
Because we didn't have any records
Only eight track cassettes
Methuselah was a firefly
Who was drowned in the river
The day after my mother died
I saw peaches and fruit ebb after him
I think he saw them ahead of time
But didn't know where he was going
His eyes closed
As he shattered the surface
His heart beat wild and broke in two
I was the only one who saw
His wings stop working
Half way to the lymph
Methuselah was black all over
With little white legs
And a crown of feathers
He married a stonemason
Who kept daisies in vases
And quartered roses for fodder
He wears tight trousers
And has eyes that never closed
And was dipped in honey
And served at the Last Supper
©10.12.01
this poem is about humans. it is about tracing our defects to birth (untidy mother &c), accepting ourselves for who we are (granite lavatories &c), and loving each other unconditionally (warm cookies &c). i wish all humans were better than we can be to one another and I wish George were still with us to teach us this.
Methuselah was my father
And Cain is my uncle
We had bed spreads of rock
And granite lavatories
With no windows
Jail houses
Down the street
Were more tidy
Than my mother's hair
Methuselah was my brother
And I loved him like a pet
Kept quiet we under the porch at night
'Till Mum thought we had run off
With the neighbour's youngest daughter
We had to keep the dog quiet
By tying him to the toilet
And feeding him crackers
Methuselah was my auntie
And he carried me in a straw hat
Until I had grown enough to pull the cat's tail
Belts and panty hose
Hung like feathered roses
And plaid teatrays
Lined the walls like linoleum
Eyelashes never felt sweeter
Methuselah was my mother
And she fed me from a basket
Filled with warm cookies
And toast without butter
She was fat as the moon
And a swarm of crickets
Played in her shadow
Coffee was reserved
For special occasions
And for pouring on stonemasons
Methuselah was the moon
And the stars in my childhood
And has since become the ocean
I live in a land locked country
And look out my window at night
For lightning beetles and iridescent flies
To land on daffodils on the horizon
When I pick daffodils from over there
To bring to my mother
They always die ten yards before the house
If I squint I can see them
Undulate into fœtuses
Methuselah was my neighbour
He brought me milk and corn
And post cards
From places that had them
He brought me insects in jars
Who try to kiss you when you touch the glass
And who hiss like cats
When you try to pick them up
He laughed and told me
That he won them in a poker game
Methuselah was my lover
And lonely nights
Became garnered and kept
With sundries in silver boxes
Ornaments for Christmas trees
Were exiguous that year
He bought me a pocket watch
To go with the fire in my eyes
And the ivy in my pants
When we gave phonographs to each other
Last Christmas we laughed
Because we didn't have any records
Only eight track cassettes
Methuselah was a firefly
Who was drowned in the river
The day after my mother died
I saw peaches and fruit ebb after him
I think he saw them ahead of time
But didn't know where he was going
His eyes closed
As he shattered the surface
His heart beat wild and broke in two
I was the only one who saw
His wings stop working
Half way to the lymph
Methuselah was black all over
With little white legs
And a crown of feathers
He married a stonemason
Who kept daisies in vases
And quartered roses for fodder
He wears tight trousers
And has eyes that never closed
And was dipped in honey
And served at the Last Supper
©10.12.01
this poem is about humans. it is about tracing our defects to birth (untidy mother &c), accepting ourselves for who we are (granite lavatories &c), and loving each other unconditionally (warm cookies &c). i wish all humans were better than we can be to one another and I wish George were still with us to teach us this.
