The Bee
Woke me up.
Knocking again and again at the glass;
One corner, then another,
Failing each time to see that the path
To the warm, blue air is little more
Than a hand’s width to pass.
~ S L. James
The Bee
Woke me up.
Knocking again and again at the glass;
One corner, then another,
Failing each time to see that the path
To the warm, blue air is little more
Than a hand’s width to pass.
~ S L. James
Knotted
I don’t understand the tangle.
The strands that pull and get caught;
It doesn’t even make for a story.
I watch him attempt to draw the back view of a figure.
Frown at the restriction of paper.
His mind sees nothing else, whereas mine,
Mine wells up at the touch of an old keyboard.
Brims with memory not worthy of thought.
He loves me. So does she, so do others.
Surely it must soon unravel.
The drawing is finished, he places it down.
My eyes won’t move off the misplaced line.
~ S L. James
Falsely Quiet
Surely such a large space should be louder somehow.
Fields stretch like time, pigeons sleep with heads buried in wings,
Cyclists pass like soft cloud.
Noise is lost beneath figures that lie flat and lace their fingers with grass,
The squeal of childhood trapped in swing chains and echoing no further
Than dry fence posts buckled by heat.
In fact everyone talks; dogs yap, twigs break, but you wouldn’t know.
Right now the distance is too great, and all that speaks is movement.
~ S L. James
The Home
He led her small, child- like
Figure from room to room as
She whispered she’d like a cup of tea,
Raised his hand to conduct the notes
That sprang from her lips
Like an unexpected knock at a door.
She’d forgotten his name
Yet grasped his hand,
Her head just above his hip.
Their footsteps held
Almost two hundred years between them.
As they walked, smiled, nodded,
They exclaimed at the softness of
Carpet; new, fitted just the other week.
~ S L. James
The Trick
She smiled to an empty room.
The scent of polish clung to photographs,
Gaps of shelf, the television stand.
She never did lift the candles and
As for the books, there were far too many.
How long would it take to dust each one?
Hours, perhaps, and anyway,
Who can know if it’s hidden, if the
Space beneath the lampshade
Remains untouched. Others will
Smell the polish, see the smile
And believe that the blush of cheekbone
Was never faked. All the while
The stubbornness of fingertips
Refusing to do more than they wish.
~ S L. James
Chase
The heat dragged
Like a tail across a dusty path.
Tired legs- skinny bones.
What a shame to feel the weight when
We thought we could run further.
But the stroke of evening
Waved persistently.
The grass flattened in steps
Beneath the bounce of the ball
Chasing a mind of its own.
~ S L. James
For Now.
When I was around fifteen years old
I watched my first real crush hold hands with another girl.
In an instant perspective changed.
That puppet turn of head in the playground-
The glimpse of her chin dropped in laughter,
His palm cupped at her waist,
Felt like the worst heartache in the world.
All will know those times;
Lived, forgotten.
In later years swept aside for a true concept of love.
I hold him as though a sea of china would smash if I didn’t.
Many will know the linger of the snap of tongue;
A stain scrubbed at, fading, almost, but not quite.
On the walk it starts to rain and tree bark dampens.
The dog raises her tail and chases the stick-
Leaps at it, grabs it, tosses it up.
She won’t bring it back, she’s distracted by
A jogger, by the thud of feet.
I need to hold him like that, when
Pen won’t touch paper and everything jars.
Some will know.
~S L. James
Judgement
Eyes wide as landscapes;
both wishing that each other
knew before they spoke.
~S L. James
Music
A few notes,
A familiar strum of strings,
Sometimes all it takes is
A single piano key.
The temper of childhood
Recreated, the little box
Hidden in a jumper in
A wardrobe to make sure.
When words mean everything,
Simply because
It never is possible
To sum up yourself.
Our heads lay side by side.
The music offered dimensions
We’d forgotten; yet
Too easily recalled.
~ S L. James
Shake
When
she tries to
stand on one leg
her whole body trembles;
first
her calves,
then her thighs,
and before she knows it
she’s lost balance altogether.
~S L. James