|
John Calvin Hughes
Self-Help
Go to the comfortable chair.
When the house creaks
and wind and windows clatter, listen.
Focus on the sweep second
hand on the golden-spiked clock.
Your arms will rise and stretch,
reaching for walls that recede like galaxies.
If you hear voices
in running water, listen, listen.
What's All This Stuff?
What do you want from me?
I was sure I locked the door
and now there you are,
back in the closet, behind
the coats, rummaging
in the pockets, worrying
my new shoes. Don’t you have
a home to go to?
How am I supposed to sleep
with you under the bed, tugging
at the blankets, stirring
up dust and papers
I want to forget?
I suppose that’s my lamp
you have under there.
I hope you’re not reading
all that stuff: it’s not
really ready yet.
©2009 by John Calvin Hughes
John Calvin Hughes has published poems, stories,
and criticism in numerous magazines and journals.
He is the author of The Novels and Short Stories of Frederick Barthelme,
from the Edwin Mellen Press.
|
