Tuesday, 23 May 2017

A Toon Tellegen poem about the world of words

at a window

I stand at a window.
I see words coming.

Some words I recognise:
although, red, previously,
nevertheless in its flapping jacket,
truthfulness, imperfect...

Some clamber onto each other’s shoulders.
‘Who are you?’ they shout.
‘Overcast,’ I shout.
‘Heavily or fairly?’ they ask.
‘Slightly,’ I say. ‘Slightly overcast.’

I lower my eyes.
I wish I was glittering
or somewhat
or even more: notwithstanding.

It starts to rain.
Although looks up, her cheeks grow wet.
Far and wide run away.

Darkness falls.

No comments: