This poem was inspired by words I found written on a lapboard I used to take a quiz on Monday. Enjoy!
By Maggie McGinity
Time lost track of me.
My line now mystery,
Not held by history.
The substance of my hips.
The pressure on my lips.
My beat and takes my trips
Many a metal may embrace
Upon my wrist, near my face
But fingers bare, around to trace
I’ll be constricted to no place.
I don’t want to be a face at the window.
I love able to come and go.
To not be the same shade as the wall, though
Would be nice to know
How to do.
Am I an open book?
Do I warrant second look?
Who knows what the teasing took.
I’ll never be a babbling brook.
At arm’s length, how do I seem?
Across the room and freeze.
For every dogged dream,
There’s (at least) one demon I can’t please.
I remember, I can memorize
Quite well and just fine,
But there is rarely a prize
I can call all mine
I won’t willingly bare
These things which you are unaware
Exist. There is no way to prepare.
If you ask, you may find them there:
A multitude of moving bruise
Covering a left-out with much left to lose,
Knowing, inherently, those you choose
Are better than this never-muse.
At least it’s no instead of nothing.
At least there’re no hearts to go hunting
For. Better, I guess, than left wanting,
“And I’ll never be set free as I’m ghost that you can’t see. If you read between the lines you’ll know that I’m just trying to understand the feelings that you lack.”
-pieces of “If You Could Read my Mind,” by Gordon Lightfoot