lyrics | fictions | episodes ©E. Best, 2013-2020
I never wrote to you –
perhaps I should
love ties rope round
and then it pulls
leaves us stretching
like a kid under a tree
for one bright apple
nobody sees
I don’t like apples –
never did
don’t eat fruit much
and won’t until
sweet berries lean
towards my door
and that will happen
to me no more
[first posted 22 November 2014]
I found a flat grey stone on the beach
with scratch marks
scored deeply on one side
it reminded me of something I couldn’t account for
so I placed it in the yard
with other things I don’t care about
and thought no more of it
when I saw it again
the lines seemed more pronounced
(it may have been the light)
but it no longer reminded me of anything
other than how a young child starved of love
will fail to thrive
next day
I returned it to the beach
a three-legged dog followed me home
but I don’t want him
when the pheasant hit the window
we were eating cake
lemon crumbs on our lips
I could have kissed you
but didn’t
[first posted 23 May 2015]
I awoke unable to remember
how or why we write poems
or make these line breaks
alerting us to another way
of reading and seeing
now I remember
meanwhile
rainwater collecting in buckets
shone like something holy
[first posted 17 Jan 2015]
this morning I sharpened my pencil
in expectation of words
little boats came instead
while antelope gathered
upon a white hill
to stare – cave drawings
from I don’t know where
I would rather have had words
[first posted 31 May 2015]
perhaps I should genuflect
light a candle
mumble something holy
but when the night terrors come
to this private vault
we call consciousness
only my dog can hear me
be near me
comfort this old skin
so I say a little prayer for him
and whisper I’m ok
[first posted Jan 8, 2016]
the old man had lost something
of inestimable worth
more precious than he could ever say
now his burden felt a little lighter
a little lighter
as he went upon his way
[first posted 3 Feb. 2016]
you taught me a lot
and lit a fire in the snow
under the dovecote
a rook comes and goes
from a clear sky
and you sent me a photo
of a white candlestick
I keep on my wall
it reminds me often
of home
dog on the bed
like a polar landmass in the spring
I would give anything
to be like you
yours is an empire of the skin
mine the meandering way within
an island off the compass of the world
go howl your howl
let it be heard
[first posted 1 Jan 2017]
sitting on the bed
notebook raised to the rough angle
of the ridge opposite
where the orange cubes of a new estate
have sprung up against the skyline
I recall another time
I sketched houses in distraction
as one parent raged against the other
in the summer vacation
before they parted
I shouldn’t have started
the light diminishes – evening comes early
evening comes early to all of us
who dwell in the valley
[first posted 26 March 2015]
