Poetry Issue 13

   Issue # 13 : January - March 2011

Mabi David



Sitting Poem, 1


      These days I like to sit patiently in front of objects.
      Pink bowl, a piece of fruit, coral, paper clip.
      If I sit quiet enough, time enough, cup
      my attention to drink each matter enough
      nothing happens. The bowl is not a symbol.
      I can watch the skin, bruise, sickly, blacken.
      All is a commonplace. A startle is a scandal.
      The coral, dead, lacks sentiment. The clip, practical.
      I used to like to sit in front of you, patient
      with affliction. I drank from it your company.
      Nothing was actually happening. How happy we were.