Thursday 12 May 2022

Five Poems by Fabrice Poussin

 


Cotton Balls in the Grass

 

A good day for digging she thought

a whole night of raining will help

she puts on her best suit and begins

excavating the territory she surveys.

 

Often distracted by a winged invader

she contemplates a changing creation

now reaching for recalcitrant twigs on the oak

there is still great exploration to complete.

 

A real professional in her instinctual arts

she has company on the grounds.

a cadaver made of silk and cotton entrails

friends for months, lamb chop rests here and there.

 

Victim of the adoring jaws he litters the green

unaware of his demise as she will remain

pals Forever in the field of endless plays

gentle canine she gives me her questioning gaze.

 


Divine mathematics

 

Enamoured with chalked up equation

Relic of a century old explanation

She stares into the void beyond the wall

To discover the proofs of the great philosopher.




She belongs to the words 

 

Paints say little about the model in her soul

Arabesques flourish in the gentle trace of her curves

As she paints the first letter to another sister.

 

She cares little for frozen moments on a camera plane

Continually altering the vision of her moving figure

Dancing on the page, marking parchment with her life.

 

All the thoughts she exhales are in shiny China ink

Reflecting on the walls of days only she may define

One line borne of the mist of a precious dawn.

 

Her story floats within the hours since all beginnings

Puerile as it was on the birth of a fresh galaxy

Syllables beat steadily at the rhythm of her passion.

 

She is flesh yet only for a moment given to all her kin

Illusion to the one who can only see proof of her being

A body surged from the perfection of fashion magazines.

 

Never will she cease to be to the dreamer seeking a muse

For she belongs to the words speaking the treasures she is

Endlessly even in the darkness of infinite oblivion.

 

She is, and continues in this essential journey alone

Gentle to the air ethereal realm her accomplice

For all times printed onto the memory of the universe.

 

 

Shooting the Hoops

 

It was not a day before

tall in his bright uniform

he beat them in a leap.

 

Staring at the hour he wonders

might it be the time or again the age

why he runs yet on his own?

 

The space once so small now immense

he seeks a challenge to stop the race

to the goal ten feet above the earth.

 

There were once dozens soon but ten

now he searches the land for a friend

bouncing the ball without a thought.

 

What will he do as dusk sets again

when shaken by the cries of friends

abandoned now on a vacant land.

 

A little less strong he will walk home

to rest upon his chair and wonder

whether this is now to be all that remains.

 


Smiles of ages

 

A disturbance in the aisle,

the girl smiles reassuring

the child walks away

all is fine in the heart.

 

Mother has learned the art

for the smile of a moment,

that which will last a little

sole language for the fresh babe.

 

On his knees, holding the box

in it the smile on an hour

shining of a million stars

she looks down, in jolly tears.

 

Sitting in the oaken pews

listening to the hymn

the infant screams for a breast

smiles of a century protects him.

 

They travel together on the many paths

choosing the flavours and fragrances they love

others follow to be guided through

on the secure smiles of ages.

 

When it is finally time to part ways

many will stay behind

so, one day they too may join

in the realm of eternity’s smiles.

 

 


Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications. His collection “In Absentia,” was published in August 2021 with Silver Bow Publishing. 

 

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