Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 35

THE BURDEN OF TRUTH

Once again, she contemplated tinkering with the truth

If only to brighten the conversation,

But fatigue dogged her resolve.

Today, all she had was her

Gurgling, ´

Uncomfortable,

Draining

Burden of truth.

 

Today, she should have chosen absolute silence.

 

 

ILLUMINATIONS

 

I deeply despise 

The disconcerting crash landings 

That inevitably follow glittering ideas

Conceived in delusional nanoseconds

When I forget how old I am,

Only to be rudely reminded

That the tock relating to that particular illumination

Ticked several years ago.

 

Each time,

The shock is real.

 

Viva la reincarnation!

 

 

INTRUDER

Morning sunshine,

Living room

Sitting,

Calmly sorting

My femininely cluttered handbag.

 

Muffled noise,

I stand,

Move to investigate.

 

A strange man in my house.

Nervy, jittery.

 

«Good morning »,

I chirrup,

Spontaneously.

As though expecting him.

 

Maybe I even smile.

 

He mutters something.

Sketchy.

Non-sensical.

Leaves.

 

An icy snake slithers

Down my back.

My mind spins alternative outcomes.

 

Did my greeting keep me safe?

 

 

WOOL-PULLERS

They talk,

Hot air, minimum grace,

Explaining,

Chameleons playing charades,

Expert wool-pullers

Laden with artfully repurposed baggage.

 

They charm,

Shape-shifting,

Slithering through opportunities

Gamblers goading fate,

Thigh-deep in bullshit,

Eloquent in obscure forked tongues.

 

They spin doctorates,

Shaking off the chips so they may fall

Elsewhere,

On those with wider shoulders,

On the good-natured toiling trudgers

Who do the heavy lifting.

 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Esmeralda is watching them…

 

 

 

BUMMER

Today I am unsure,

Tentative.

Reversing repeatedly,

Word restless.

Pacing, circling like a dog searching for the perfect spot.

Today there is no cascading creativity, no giddy keyboard trampolining.

All I have is a dribble of drivel squeezing through a barrage of self-criticism.

 

Today is a mental bummer.

Today, I simply suck.

 

 

SUPER DONG: He’s back and he’s hardcore!

 

My eye went wonky yesterday,

A spotty eyelid, hip-hip hurray.

This morning the spots were two, not one,

Some extra work for Dr. Dong!

 

I visit Dong three times a week,

He works hard on my IBD

I showed him my sexy red eye,

He said, “Don’t worry, it’s just a stye”.

 

And then he lay me on the bed,

Shoved loads of needles everywhere.

I’m used to it, I hardly flinch,

But OMG today I did!

 

He said this session would be long,

Far stronger than a usual one.

And then he left, so I relaxed

But five minutes later he was back!

 

Yikes, I thought, this could be bad

He’s got more needles in his hand!

He also had a little wipe,

With disinfectant for my eye.

 

I cried, “What are you doing? Seriously? Argh!”

But he just needled me in the eye,

Then added some under my feet.

I said rude words I won’t repeat.

 

Anyway, I had a nap,

For a full hour I was flat out.

I jerked just once, then not again

Jerking’s bad news when you’ve been Donged!

 

When his nice colleague woke me up,

I wanted proof of what Dong’d done!

He kindly snapped this photograph,

To prove to you I’m a badass!

 

 

THE RUSH

Sometimes, she read pieces that to her sounded

Like Gossip Girl got high on AI,

Had sex with one of the Marvel dudes

And started writing a mile a millisecond without

Capitals or punctuation,

Like all zippedydoodah but fast and furious.

And then she realised she was rush-reading and saying

Wow wow wow.

But that she was already exhausted and it wasn’t even 9 am!

SOMEONE’S SON

You lounged,

Scruffy, whiffy,

On Regent Street,

On concrete,

Crestfallen, yet the hope of youth

Still Illuminating your handsome face.

I recall navy eyes,

Dark circles.

Exhaustion.

 

I slowed,

Wanting to stop.

Take you for tea.

Ask questions.

I wanted to understand.

 

I wanted to help.

 

You could have been my son.

 

Yet I let my friend

Dissuade me.

Just another druggy, she said.

Nothing you can do.

 

I did nothing.

Instead, I shopped,

Selfishly,

Anthropologie.

 

 

Years later, you remain on my conscience.

I hope someone behind me

Stopped.

Asked questions.

Took you for tea.

Understood

I hope they helped you.

 

You could have been my son.

 

You are someone’s son.

 

Please forgive me.

 

 

 

 

BIKE RIDE

Come for a bike ride,

Just a little one!

Past fields of

sunflowers wizened by the sun.

Let the lycra racers whoosh by one by one,

I want to savour the view of the Mont Blanc!

We pedal slowly, hold up everyone,

I’m slightly wobbly, and the saddle hurts my bum.

You’ve got the skills but you’ve got to wait for me!

I think that’s enough now I want a cup of tea!

COULD MY GREY MATTER BE PINK?

 

My husband plans way in advance,

While I sit here dreaming of romance.

He’s always been the reasonable one,

The one who has his head screwed on.

 

He’s been preoccupied with death,

We saw a lawyer, spoke at length.

I guess they did, I just sat there

Spinning sad tales out of thin air.

 

My brain won’t do what his brain does,

I ponder far more mushy stuff.

In fact, now that I’ve had a think,

I’m sure my grey matter’s actually pink!

 

I love crochet, make bags and shawls,

I’ve knitted sweaters, cardies, dolls.

I’ve painted crystal chandeliers,

Turned them to multicoloured dreams!

 

I’ve written romcom, mocked Donald Trump,

Poems about doobies, bunnies, frogs.

Stories about philandering smelly men!

And of strong women who get revenge.

 

My brain has screws for stuff like that,

Not business, wills or boring maths!

My filter’s rather wonky too,

It lets all kind of info through.

 

The will thing got to me today,

The thought of dying’s rather strange.

But I guess it’s good to be prepared,

At least that’s what my husband says.

 

I’ll leave my poems to all mankind,

So, think of me, and please be kind!

I hope you’ll read my romcom, too,

Rededicated to all of you.

 

My clogs aren’t popped, I promise you!

They’re Birkenstocks, and nearly new.

And now my pink matter’s lost its edge,

So, I should probably go to bed!