Thursday, June 21, 2018

Banquo’s chair

There were twin bright blue crushed velvet armchairs
With curved backs and deep arms

You could curl right up in one of them, like a cat,
or push them together to make a fort.

I must have been very young
because i can feel the top of my head
and the soles of my feet
barely brushing the backs of the chairs
as i stretched out
with a book
or for a nap

or just to hide.

If I close my eyes I can see Olga sitting in it
Incorporeal and as young as she would have been
When that little girl used them for a bed.

After Olga died,
Mary and Wei-sun bought them
for twenty-five dollars each
and reupholstered them
in a hard dusty rose.

For 40 years I sat in them
at family dinners
Easter Thanksgiving Christmas

Until yesterday.
When one of the set came back.
To sit in my living room,
like Banquo returning to the scene of the crime.

Monday, June 18, 2018

Metaphor

I have an imaginary friend. No one can see them except me, and I can't really see them. They follow me around, just over my right shoulder; if I could turn fast enough I might catch a glimpse, if I wanted to.

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I don't look into mirrors at night, because I'm afraid of who will be looking back.

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Like a Klingon, I have an entire alternate vascular system, but instead of being filled with blood, it's filled with depression. It flows out of my heart and into my brain and all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. Like my regular vascular system, most of the time I'm not really aware of it, but every now and then I bump it and a bruise forms, or it bleeds into my brain.