Obama is on the TV
I thought for a minute he was talking to me
But the world – on the TV – will always be there, right?
But our espresso machine is ready to go, right now
It gleams – at me
And I beam – at it
And I feel safe on our Ikea rug
Blowing air across my Costa Rican blend,
Robust, full-bodied, like a drug
More reliable than a human friend.
The door clicks behind you
And the house rearranges itself in the space you leave behind
Sounds like – ((sigh in))
And I wait to see
what the day will find
Because morning is open for business.
Morning had gotten up early next door
Widow weeping under an intolerant sun for the husband detained
Widow not really, except for a husband stained
He’s been detained
And the woman searches the bins
While the child sounds like I’m hungry
Next door to widow weeping
In the house that’s never sleeping
Live Mr and Mrs Don’t-know.
Mr Don’t-Know’s fist supposedly
Spelunked it’s way through Mrs Don’t-Know’s skull,
His foot canyoneering down her ribs
But we don’t talk of such things
Because we don’t really know.
Sounds like shhhhh
Next door to the Don’t Knows
Is the migrant woman who grieves.
Sounds like oh_ my_ god
And wears so much black that she is black and I feel black every time I look at her
Even though I’m white as a Barbie doll,
White as a diamond.
So white I sparkle and I offend myself.
In the middle of it all -
Like the world congealed
Because someone left the lid off compassion unsealed -
Is a park that curls up brown at the edges
Aint no kindness in these hedges
Just a brown park
Under a turquoise scrim
And in the screeching din
Of cockatoos
I kick off my shoes
and draw the curtains of my face.
I can smell the coffee from our house
A precise 30ml extraction of pure, washed Arabica beans
It makes me want to be smaller than I am
It draws me up, and it draws me in
And I feel myself rushing through the porta-filter
Getting smaller and smaller with all that hot air
Until all that is left is
I’m hungry_ Shhhh_ oh my God_ ((sigh in))
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My name is Simonne Michelle-Wells. I'm a writer from Melbourne (originally from WA). I have a background in theatre and write theatre reviews for Australian Stage Online. In my day job I'm a speech writer. I've had short fiction published in Cottonmouth, Beyond Words, Box Magazine, The Naked Eye and the inaugural Emerging Writers' Festival Reader. I was awarded a residency at Varuna in 2008 for my first novel, and was the recipient of the 2009 Ada Cambridge Prize for biographical short story writing. I am also the blog administrator for the Varuna Alumni writers' Blog.
16 Comments
June 29, 2009 at 12:13 pm
i love this portrait…
beautiful..
July 1, 2009 at 3:07 am
Thank you
June 29, 2009 at 2:27 pm
thoughtful…
June 29, 2009 at 9:25 pm
The last line of this is so stunning. It sounds like a song.
June 30, 2009 at 3:14 am
Cool. I don’t remember seeing many Simonne poems before and this unrolls revealing a scene like a tapestry made of words and sounds and images. A Simonne poem! Yayaya, more more.
July 1, 2009 at 12:12 am
I agree with Paul, More poems Simonne! Do you right much poetry? Post more! Please! The last line of this is fantastic, pulling all of the threads of the camera-panned morning together and forming a fantastic, though sad & longing, sound-scape.
July 1, 2009 at 3:11 am
Thanks Paul and Maxine. How wonderful to get some great feedback from my favourite poets!
I don’t write a lot of poetry, no. It takes so much work; it’s such a difficult and exacting genre, and I think you’re either a poet, and you spend time honing the craft, or not. Maybe that’s silly, I don’t know. (But I do love performance poetry and would like to do more of that.)
July 1, 2009 at 12:25 am
Very well done, we see so much when we open our eyes.
July 1, 2009 at 3:11 am
That we do.
July 1, 2009 at 2:52 am
Oh yeah!!! The first read was awesome. On the second read, I started getting chills through my spine. Written for performance, Simonne? I am going to read this out loud when I get home. Brilliant!!!
July 1, 2009 at 3:12 am
Thanks Brad! It was written for performance, yes. I performed it at last year’s Australian Slam comp in WA.
July 1, 2009 at 7:42 am
Brad, you took the words out of my mouth! Simonne, I can HEAR it in my head as I read it, it needs to be read out loud…not that it isn’t wonderful just on the page (or screen), but it’s so much more. But what else would we expect from a poet/novelist/playwright/actor/director/oh-bloody-jack-of-all-trades!!!!!?
July 2, 2009 at 4:13 am
Thanks Christina! Yes, it is meant to be spoken aloud.
I am a bit of a jack-of-all-trades… now if I could just master one of them…!
July 2, 2009 at 5:53 am
Very beautiful. I liked this a lot.
July 3, 2009 at 1:17 am
Thank you very much.
August 8, 2009 at 1:54 pm
This is very neighborly and quaint.
The brew is very strong, and you gave it to us straight. The cream and sugar is there, but off to the side. Nice spread!
I can see why Dhyan added you to his list.
Nice to meet you, Simonne!