Monday, 22 August 2022

Four Poems by David James

 



A WALK BY THE LAKE

“It’s the one moment I’ll remember until I die.”

                                           Debbie James

 

It’s late and Cloud won’t sleep,

so you take him in the stroller on a clear night

along Lake Leelanau.  You push him slowly back and forth

up the cottage road until he’s still, not moving, not a peep

coming from the blankets.  Rolling out from under a tree,

 

the northern sky is framed and the Big Dipper shines like

a marquee.  It’s then Cloud lifts his one arm to point up,

both of you stunned alive by the view.

Like the very first humans, faces soft in wonder and light,

you are caught and kept forever in this beauty.

 

 

IN THE END, YOU HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING

for Cloud, Chloe, Henry, Simon, Elliot and Annie

 

 

Here’s my advice: don’t listen to me

or anyone.

Well, maybe listen to God and that sure voice

inside you. Maybe listen to the stars. Or the sea

with its long drawn out answers.

 

But don’t do what I did or what I’ve done.

Make your own

mistakes; get in your own trouble; screw up in your own

lovely way and try to work it out. You can’t outrun

yourself or time, so don’t try.

 

Whatever you become, don’t be a drone

plodding along

behind the others. Step out of your skin and shake

your booty. Pick up each dream like a smooth stone

and skip it across the lake of chance.

 

This is your one and only life—I pray it’s happy and long.

Give away

your love, your kindness, your hope and laughter.

Listen to your heart and fall for joy and her song

every day; in fact, sing as loud as you can

 

until you’re out of breath.

 

 

                 A CYCLE FOR THE UNBORN

 

1.

with so much snow

I walk

almost blind on the lake

& trip on a seagull

his head frozen in ice

feathers pulling out

blowing

downshore

 

2.

I hear a crack

in the lake splitting

near me

the sound of someone’s

back giving out

under my feet

 

3.

I think of the children

yet to come loose

from my body

to push out

of your body

only to stumble

through more winters

other deaths

 

 

                            THE LAST STRAW IN LEELANAU

 

The man wades waist deep

into the lake near midnight,

stars struck numb with clouds.

He has the usual doubts, wondering

if this is wrong or right,

 

or if the sky, like a shroud,

is an omen.

There’s no way to tell.

The man’s life has unravelled

like a poorly sewn hem—

 

his job shot to hell,

his wife sleeping with the neighbour,

his son serving time

for selling cocaine to minors.

To the man, each day is a whore

 

demanding to be paid in kind.

Tonight, clouds churn like faces

in a mixer until the eyes

melt and it begins to rain.

He walks straight out, trying to find a place

 

where truth becomes a lie,

where the darkness

on his shoulders lifts away

and his world comes

to a complete rest.




David James has published seven books; his most recent is titled ALIVE IN YOUR SKIN WHILE YOU STILL OWN IT, Kelsay Books, 2022. He teaches at Oakland Community College.

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