the heart laid bare

Archive

VERBAL PORTRAIT OF A CAT OWNER
Unanswered
Bedtime
the one time
prisoner
iris
adore
delicate
Untitled 10
never him
lockdown
procrastinating
advice to the imaginary man of my hypothetical dreams
the tenth month
purple hearts
vigil
a glossary of terms
a week forever ago
The sixteenth
the curse
Under seige
Beyond the blues
Introspect
Balloon
push
a strange distance
SWIMMING ALWAYS DOWNWARD
A ONCE-FAMILIAR LANDSCAPE
No Apology
the thunder
tinder
critical shortage
the sky we thought we knew
CIRCA SOLEM
almanac
baby
dearest orlando
FIVE MONTHS
A LETTER TO THE UNDESERVING
cactus heart
would we
the fall of giants
paradise lost
Dad
after you've gone
time
a smile from the eyes
trepidation
why so cold
fix this
swallow me
untitled 8
insular
cry alone
robin
quicksand
laces
D.I.S.C.
stripped
waving goodbye
your open eyes
enemy within
mortal
untitled 4
sleepless
OUTSIDER
untitled 9
come dream with me
in the face of adversity
one word
the dark of the night
untouchable
one and one makes two
you burn me
see me
this shaken core
my lover
helen
my room
his words
foolish
rita
chalk drawings
the longest night
stupid skeleton
CLOTHES MAKETH
FIRST LASTS
STELLAR
TODAY
I WATCHED A MAN DIE TODAY
THREE WEEKS
this slippery slope
untitled 5
Arrows
First Kiss
The Talk Of Love
Nicotine
Blackout

Unanswered

There's a whole world of questions left unanswered,
Now that you're not here.

When I need a wine recommendation,
Or I have a question about the torque settings on an electric drill;
When I want to know about post-WWII England,
Or which chess pieces can move sideways,
Or the best way to stop sprinkler heads filling up with sand;
The go-to chair is empty now.

I could ask Google how to do my taxes,
Or about the Prince of Wales,
Or what to do when the sink gets blocked,
But Google can only do so much.
It can give me cold hard facts
Names and dates.
It cannot add the warmth and flavour that you always used to put into every answer.
It doesn't add the human flourishes that thaw the cold hard facts
And give them meaning.

There are entire fields of answers that I never learned
Because you were there, patient and sometimes not,
Ready with an answer, or an explanation, or with the tools for me to find out my answer for myself.
I trusted in your knowledge to help me spur my own.

I miss answers having meaning.

© mjc 16 February 2018

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Biography

Daughter, sister, aunt, godmother, friend; self-confessed hermit, confirmed cat person, sporadic baker, irreformable yarncrafter, voracious reader; occasional wit, voluble shower vocalist, frequent sacrifice on the altar of brain-to-mouth filter fails, unrepentant purveyor of puns and dad jokes, writer and poet.

I have always lived by the theory that no matter what you do for a living - if you are compelled to write, if you wake up in the night to scrawl the contents of your dreams on a notebook beside the bed, if no event in your life seems complete without you recording it, if you are drawn to comment upon the world - then you are a writer.

These are my words.