You Don’t Know
It’s having too many days filled with dark gaps of time that are both a gift and a curse for I often find myself stunned into silence staring out the window at the dancing light filtered through clustered bursts of green rebellion and feeling the snail-like pace that time sometimes offers me to create yet instead I sit and I wonder what it is that I am supposed to be contributing to this world. Twenty-five years have collapsed like a house made from cards and still I turn towards an embrace that is distant and yet warm. You don’t know that when I look into the mirror and try to recall the words that were said to me I doubt my memory and convince myself that they were not what were said but what I wanted said needed to be said but then I step back and remember the smile one dark morning while I sat with coffee in a t-shirt and panties the words I remember they were actually said and despite the image I see in the mirror and the criticisms that often crowd my head the words- your words are fresh and welcome and sincere and important. Waking from the eroticisms of my dreams I lie in the sleepy afterglow of yet another night of sexual betrayal recounting what happened I feel the reality of my mattress below me I know I could stay and I could go but I won’t do either I rise and drink coffee and wonder if the gaps of time will have colour for me that day or if it will be up to me to paint them and then I wonder next if I actually have the talent to do so
Lisa Murphy-Lamb
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