you must imagine yourself to be soft
as the butter in its dish
from the counter tops of 1982
and open as the sky
I look up to every fourth of July
or whenever I notice I’ve lost something
but what if I’m like your mirror
and really you are just as tough
and unfraying as the hemp
tying up my wind chimes all these years
and closed up tight, sleeping
like all pretty flowers before their bloom

11 Responses to “dreaming on the impending sunshine”

  1. sfpbiblio Says:

    Very nice, thanks for sharing.

  2. cinnette Says:

    no problem, sfpbiblio. i appreciate you stopping by.

  3. jim Says:

    how little we know about those around us, esp the ones we love. is it because trust weakens our defenses and enables us to create a person who may not even exist? and do we think of ourselves as somehow magically immune to the softening love of others? this tough little poem continues a familiar theme of yours, the mirroring of self through the illusions of others, and you succeed once again in drawing that hemp tightly around our throats. excellent work, cinnette.

  4. cinnette Says:

    yes Jim, and thank you so much. wonderful comments from you, i truly appreciate your visits.

  5. sciowithbrio Says:

    Very nice poem.1982 was an excellent year. I opened my eyes to the world in that year you see.

  6. cinnette Says:

    thanks, sciowithbrio. born in 1982, eh? my goodness.


  7. i dig this big time. those opening lines are great. thanks for stopping by … i’ll be sure to come here more often.

  8. sciowithbrio Says:

    Why the my goodness? It wasn’t that far back if I remember correctly. It all seems like yesterday.

  9. cinnette Says:

    Heather — no problem, and thank you for coming here as well. glad you like this.

    Scio — i just meant you’re so young. not too much younger than me i guess, but still. *smile*

  10. sciowithbrio Says:

    Huh.Wise beyond my years I assure you. As an aside, tell me something. There is this unifying thread in all your poem-type things right? For example in this poem it emerges as a sort of pull between a wistful perspective (reference to 1982 etc) and a perspective nascent and yet to “bloom” and already recognized as being unflinching. I don’t want to create a menagerie of words that looks like it has been designed to be ambiguous but wanted to enquire as to whether the “you” in your poems is a past self that you cajole and interpret and shun? Sorry, just a lot of words crowding a sleep-deprived brain.

  11. cinnette Says:

    someone else suggested something similar on this piece, that he saw it as two-sides of a self having a sort of inner dialogue. i can’t say for certain. when i began this i had a vague “you” in mind, sort of a conglomerate of folks, i suppose. and surely there is a theme going on with what i write these days. mostly i am thinking that we meet people and see in them the issues we need to fix or pay more attention to in ourselves, and i guess that’s what i was attempting to get at here.
    thanks for the insight, Scio.

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