Four Pens
(Jamie Mason)

Four pens
til the ink runs dry

One for the diary-
That dowry of
the gravestone altar
the prize
of that inevitable husband
the treasure
of the shrouded bride
every thought
that seemed worth noting
lying
(and sometimes lying)
beneath its date

One pen pressed hard
to the ledger
what first wrote
love notes
and pillow devotionals
hefts insult against bliss
bricks and feathers
tallied to a sum
of over and done
until the balance
lets one stay

Another for the stories
Laying the spider’s silk
that winds the fiction
binds it
wrapped for feasting
to fatten
all we think
and stretch each road
with possibilities
where asphalt
never could

The last pen for the verse
the lyric spyglass
that builds
necessary mountains
from overlooked molehills
and breaks Goliath
to his clay
then to his dust
then to his ode

The stylus
the quill
the stick in the sand
the ballpoint clicking
and clicking
the thumb’s annoyance
at words that
come too slowly
run, spill, leak, spew
a rainbow
from content to anguish

I match each shade
to its brand of sigh

Four pens
til the ink runs dry
***

(Read more of Jamie Mason’s poetry here)

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This entry was posted on Monday, February 16th, 2009 at 7:51 pm and is filed under *Jamie's Posts, Midnight Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.