john grey
John Grey is an Australian
born poet. Recently published in International Poetry Review, Sanskrit and
the science fiction anthology, “Futuredaze” with work upcoming in Clackamas
Literary Review, New Orphic Review and Nerve Cowboy.
You cannot stay in this house.
It doesn’t want you.
Turn on the taps
and hot doesn’t know from cold.
And the rooms keep moving.
Why isn’t the kitchen
where it was last time
you made coffee?
And why doesn’t the DVD
ever work the same way twice?
Here comes that woman again,
the one that likes to grasp your hand,
wave a knick-knack from the mantle
and say over and over the words “ Atlantic City .”
Maybe if you leave
she won’t know enough to follow,
will be wandering the streets of her Atlantic City ,
wherever that is.
You’d prefer a place
where everything stays where it is,
or better yet, one that imitates the thoughts in your head,
the straight line
that’s now the shortest distance between birth and death.
But how do you get there
where you can’t find the doors.
And that woman guides you to the bedroom
in its new place.
She sits beside you
while you sleep and dream
that everything is only ever where it is.
Like the bows in your brown pigtails.
Like the old man at the window.
Like the swing set in your yard.