Pillows and Knives
Are the feathers from pillows bringing him down?
He treaded over hot coals with the softest frown
With the crickets insistent dialogue he’d begin to sneeze
His tears were emasculated by the tentative breeze
He liked to climb to tops of tents and reflect on Northern Stars
Wouldn’t be better off if he really came from Mars?
Why does he assume his anger is wrong?
Brewing beneath surface fumes among the angry throngs
When he sharpened his favorite knives
He’d wondered how he should live out one of his nine lives
Would majesty spring forth as the bees were creating honey in the hives
Droning on and on to a queen who dominated their lives
He said he would disregard the noise and watch out for spies
Until you have no use for my watchful eyes
Late at night he could not sleep so he chopped some vegetables
And wondered why routine business trips could be so illegible
Sometimes it felt as if life was an inconsequential comedy sketch
He heard comedy was hard but could it make you wretch
If he could magically write a masterpiece
He’d revise spring and make it his new disgrace
He met a guy at a workshop who called him a writing schizoid
He told him it’s just a character so don’t be so paranoid
No, he said, I mean cut through the crap
Get to the prime meat, sharpen our senses with a fitful slap
Micah Zevin 2007
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