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The Whistle
These failures are not the irretrievable revolvers in the rain
At night by the dock.
Humphrey Bogart pulls down the brim of his hat
To keep the water off his nose.
Two mermaids are murdering each other under the pier.
There is something erotic about strangling
A white fish neck.
I give you a handful of worms to keep you in the neighborhood.
You fall for the bait.
The sun hides in a boathouse.
Death wonders what the world is waiting for and why it hasn't
Heard the whistle call.
Easygoing Conversation
These dents in the carpet are stitches in the brick.
Life goes on like banter;
No one is listening;
The emphasis is on the sound of the speech.
Talk to me with what you are not saying
So that I can hear the punished intent
As thick as entreaty.
I need you as much as palaver,
An easygoing conversation between two souls.
What's the matter is irrelevant to the difference
Which is love smearing opposites
On traveling adjacent poles.
Not that you're Polish.
You are the polish that shines my face into smiles.
I walk on the waves of twitchy affection
Like an ankle stuck in fins.
I put a rag in my mouth so I can pretend that I am dead.
David Lawrence has published over four hundred poems. New book, Lane Changes came out in March by Four Way Books.
Email: David Lawrence
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