There was a story I was supposed to tell
about you,
About the candor of your fingertips,
their dampness on my skin, like vapor.
Instead, I walk outside – pigeons coo
in chorus from a hymnal of trash,
Rats run touchdown plays
heading into the season finals,
The grass is panicked, white faced, chalky,
at the approach of winter,
Trees gasp for oxygen
as their leaves dry up and drop away.
What did you open when you tampered
with the locks, thumbing the dial, listening
With your ear on my chest
tumblers falling in place one by one?
Why did flocks of birds fly from me
heading south, leaving me without their voice?
Gusts whip cold off the river, I am wordless,
a windsock gag in my mouth.
You are thief, lover, explorer.
Dr. Livingstone, I presume?
For Shay’s Word Garden & The Sunday Muse
qbit 
This is certainly an eclectic experience Q!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Every time I read this, tears well up over how good you are.
These lines are particularly original and literally breathtaking:
“the candor of your fingertips,
their dampness on my skin, like vapor”
“The grass is panicked”
“What did you open when you tampered
with the locks, thumbing the dial, listening
With your ear on my chest”
I love how this seems overwhelmingly romantic until the last line, when I then wonder if it could be about a spiritual break-in — God finding a way into your heart, perhaps through another person.
There are many possible readings here, only one being that you are onstage, intending to give your testimony, but find yourself unable to speak.
I also like considering that the speaker may be Africa … or a patient recieving medical treatment. A colonoscopy, perhaps. 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you!!! I will take using “colonoscopy” as a prompt challenge!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can hardly wait! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Gahhh!!! Nooo! LOLOLOL!
LikeLike
Is this a combination of a check up and an exploration of exotic territory?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love this: the conversational tone, the ear on the chest and the “what did you open”, and, especially “Gusts whip cold off the river.” Wonderful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Erm… wouldn’t trees gasp for Co2?
I love the notion of someone listening for those tumblers while resting their head, even if the end result here is ambiguous at best, chilling at worse. And of course, I loved that ending. Seems like I heard it somewhere recently! Well played.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, damnit! I was super hoping to sluff off that O2/CO2 bit, but I knew someone might pick up on it. Hey, you know, poetic license – one tree’s CO2 might be another man’s oxygen, LOL!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are the weakest link. Goodbye.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wahahaha!
LikeLike
This gave me shivers, particularly the grass panicked at winter’s approach, which forms its own apocalyptic counterpoint.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLike
Another fantastic poem, Randall, which reminds me what a wonderful gift poetry is in gifted hands like yours. If you were a French troubador you would have the ladies at your feet, but as it is, the persona is at the lady’s feet, the one who like a thief has stolen his heart from its high-security vault and trashed it. All the imagery – shaded with bitterness and loss – still tingles with humor. He’s a survivor.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mind-boggling love poem. Good stuff!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!!
LikeLike
Fabulously written…”Why did flocks of birds fly from me heading south, leaving me without their voice?” You have given a brilliant voice to nature.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLike
Seems like the lover has opened eyes to the realities of the world… What was lost has been found… or perhaps seen for the first time? I am probably way off! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Be careful which tinkerers you let near the old ticker. Mystical and more than a little scary. Masterful writing as always, q.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This whole poem is incredible, qbit. It conveys the ‘gasp, shock’ of the season in all the images you give us with the grass and the trees, just wonderfully. Love these lines especially:
“Rats run touchdown plays
heading into the season finals, – fantastic image!
The grass is panicked, white faced, chalky,
at the approach of winter, ”
“What did you open when you tampered
with the locks, thumbing the dial, listening
With your ear on my chest
tumblers falling in place one by one?” – these two couplets are so innocently revealing and romantic, like someone has unwittingly fallen in love against their will and didn’t intend to and is now vulnerable because of it. Really beautiful, qbit.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much!! Glad someone besides me liked the rats and touchdown lines of lololol!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was a clever accent to the whole poem!
LikeLiked by 1 person
A poem of locks and hands that is unlocking something deeper than what is on the surface. I think this poem is like a magnificent movie that has something for everyone except the trees want something more than what you gave them to yearn for. LOL You could never be wordless my friend, you are too wordful extraordinaire! Always delighted to see you at the Muse Qbit!
LikeLiked by 1 person
“the trees want something more” I love that.
LikeLike
Your panicked grass is super interesting
Check out this
Whirligig Prompt
Much💜love
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s awesome!!
LikeLike
tabanca, steelpan…
LikeLike
“Rats run touchdown plays
heading into the season finals,
The grass is panicked, white faced, chalky,
at the approach of winter,
Trees gasp for oxygen
as their leaves dry up and drop away. ”
This is one clever imagination at work, q!
LikeLiked by 1 person
And many more. We are in bad shape, aren’t we.
Thanks for stopping by, sorry I’m late in returning.
..
LikeLike
you got love-thugged… sucker! (lucky sucker)
LikeLiked by 1 person