poetandgeek.com

poetry, place and informatics

issue 1

 

poetandgeek.com

issue 1

Andrew McCallum

  Checkmate

check
checkmate
the game concludes
like the last notes of a symphony
bishop
knight and rook
have left my father's king
nowhere to go
he sits in the corner
trapped humbled

the board dissolves
leaving a table by a window
chairs squeaking
and the snow outside
suddenly falling faster

It is my son

I am writing a poem
the phone rings
a voice speaks

I hurry out of my head
scrambling through words
clambering over images

it is my son
I hear him as distant bird-song
I laugh over something my mouth says
my hand describes pictures in the air

yes do come over
no Iím not doing anything

(I am almost touching a black cat under my skin
almost able to see through my prowling fingertips)

we exchange words like promissory notes
only when we hang up do I say
I love you

meanwhile
my poem has turned into a small brown owl
perched above the tree-swing in my garden

   previous - next

 

Yes, we are on Facebook and Twitter.

 


poetandgeek.com © 2011-2015