Forgive Her, She Knows Not What She Does
You are anger now and have
become anger through anger.
The tight-lipped woman blowing
smoke into my lungs
and soul. It’s foggy now
and sits silently inside me.
You are what I hate and what
I love, a cloud that hints at rain
but never does, a woman with
two mouths and two hearts
to match them, growing
always growing, a small tree
inside me where leaves fall.
Seasons change dear, but the tree’s
still there and so to the anger
quiet as a virgin bullet, I cannot
chop it down myself before
it pushes out and through
eyes, a nose, and a branch splits
the tongue and there’s a knot
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poem by Ben Paynter
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The Absurdity
i was telling sister it was
spring again even though
she knew this but I wanted
her to know it for a sure
thing, she was saying
brother there’s still snow
on the ground, the geese
haven’t even made their
way home yet, it was the
way sure things are sure
until someone says some-
thing, mother’s already
left four messages, let
me know how she’s doing
i’m sure, it’s been four
months since they’ve
spoken, even the phones
have been silent on
both ends, it’s what hap-
pens when sister keeps
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poem by Ben Paynter
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We Tried To Paint A Fire In The Snow
Red and orange, yellow
Maybe a touch of blue
Paint the sky with fire
And the snow with a barren hue
Can we catch these shadows with our hands
Or will the dusk refuse to play our game
I think the streetlamps want to breathe awhile
Before we fit them with a starry frame
The people pass and nod their vacant eyes
We paint them with a dash of loneliness
The keys for home sit anchored in their pockets
And all the words are written on their breath
The snow is whiter than the stone I found
That summer day in august at the shore
We said it looked just like a tiny moon
You held it till the daylight closed its door
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poem by Ben Paynter
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Three Weeks From Now, You
in keeping with this gray sky I walked
to the post office with a broken step and
tossed my letters on the counter and tried
to exit just as quickly as I had come in
'there's too much snow in Denver' I heard
the man behind the old wood desk say while
glancing at my letter's destinations, 'they
won't get there until at least three weeks from
this very day' and that's how it goes, I guess
snow everywhere, snow in Anchorage, snow in
Boston, but never any snow here to pale up
this gray that's etched itself so deep into this sky
what is it my father used to say, 'chin up boy
keep that stiff upper lip, can't let the world get
to you', so I look down, count my heel steps
and kick gravel along the sidewalk back to home
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poem by Ben Paynter
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Dance Quickly Now
-
Dance, I said to the boy in the glass
Staring back at me with a darkening mask
Dance, I begged, with love and pain
Dance, please dance, oh dance again
-
Dance with the moon in the child’s eye
Circling the middle as black as coal
Dance quickly now, its leaving soon
Light of the moon and the child’s soul
Dance with the sun in the child’s laugh
Bouncing round off sinister things
Dance quickly now, with crystal prism
Scattering wisdom, melting wings
Dance with the rain in the child’s tear
Watching the clouds attack then stop
Dance quickly now, the storm has shattered
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poem by Ben Paynter
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It Was My Uncle Soul Sifting
it was my uncle soul
sifting in a leaned back
all the way chair down
by the old family lake
taking trout we spent
all day chasing through
reeds and lilies, dodging
loons and other birds
trying to outmaneuver
them in their own home
it was my uncle soul
sifting, lifting trout
entrails, rinsing off
blood and fish and dirt
in the cold lake water
telling me it used to
be a game of his, how
many fish he could trick
before the sun set.
it was my uncle soul
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poem by Ben Paynter
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