Four Poems by TAK Erzinger

 

Mid-life

Under my coat, I pulsate

like a Dutch bulb ready to

emerge from its sepal.

I’ve already faced the darkest day

and settled in this soil

I want to rush this moment,

to reveal what I have become

but the travel has been more robust

than I’ve anticipated

I need to wait out this hibernation.

A half a life away now, a lingering

fog begins to lift, I notice even the

meagre trees are full of buds,

I think I hear a birdsong.

Let the days slowly lengthen; I

might not catch its first light but

my thoughts turn towards its warmth.

In spring, I shall emerge shawled

in ripened skin, perennial and strengthened.

Far off, a young girl departs from home

bearing down the path,

her beacon, the promise of the journey.

 

 

In (im)Perfect Agreement

 

Harmony is what they heard

when he strummed his guitar

my voice connected to his

while he was singing Margaritaville,

closing his eyes, garnering attention

I accidentally slipped off key

after, when there was no longer

an audience he yelled at me.

I couldn’t keep time, my rhythm

always a little off:

it was my own damn fault.

 

We would rehearse it all over again,

his talent: a natural performer-

played it all by ear

even though he could never hear me.

Our act had them all fooled

they listened, smiling to themselves

taping and nodding to the archetypes.

I can still recall those words, they haunt

me like ghosts from random devices:

it could be my fault.

 

Music and liquor ran through his veins

which may have been why he didn’t

find it inappropriate to teach me

that song, the family protected him

he was their youngest but the performance

had worn thin, away from the stage

the dark nursed his anger and thirst

a song could no longer quench

from behind the curtain the harmony

was lost:         

it was never my fault.

 

 

In Between Days

 

Often, I pass that little girl on the street

she whispers: see me.

Eyes full like the sky and moon,

her lips hold a secret

but her face speaks

a wide constellation of freckles

her body seems to float

unaware, she balances the world

at her feet.

I recognise her curiosity and catch

a whiff of her innocence.

Between the public garden

and the cemetery we pass each other

I could pretend not to see her

and then she startles me and

says “hello” –

my whole life rushes by

in the afternoon light

I lose her as she slips round the corner

and just like the sunshine that warms

my cheeks youth returns for an instant

and I am reminded how I ended up here.

 

 

Waterway

Follow me, it directed

the way a calf is steered by its mother.

Docile and curious, I obey

hugging the water’s edge.

 

The creek was made redundant

by the old factory but has not retired.

Repurposed by stones and roots

 

flowing for treading fish

and the trill and song of birds,

it sustains natural life

 

no longer concerned with

a waterwheel or profit

I watch it, as it

 

runs and leads

and laugh,

because I cannot keep up.

TAK Erzinger is an award-winning poet. Her collection “At the Foot of the Mountain” (Floricanto Press California, 2021) won the University of Indianapolis Etching Press, Whirling Prize 2021 for best nature poetry book. It was also a finalist at the The International Book Awards 2022, Willow Run Book Awards and Eyelands Book Awards. She is an American/Swiss poet and artist with a Colombian background. She lives on a foothill of a Swiss alp with her husband and cats.