Documentary. A poem by Ieske Poppers

(After Claribel Allegria)

Come, be my camera
inside four white walls
shabby furniture and artwork
dusty slants of sunlight on
scratched wooden floor

Come, be my portal to
suburban jungle roads
paths devoid of people
discarded plastic gloves

Come, be my go-pro
through traffic lights, downhill
wide empty prom and beach ahead
majestic yellow tower
high tide invite me in

Come, please remind me of
your cobbled streets and coloured flags
with no souls today to see them

Shuttered shops, empty walkways
pedestrian areas without
buskers, music or heartbeat
only a few winos staggering bewildered

Come, show me those spring flowers
bursting by rivers edge
swan mother incubating cygnets
water flowing vital

Come, be my sunset
unencumbered by grey rooftops
show me your pinks, your reds, your yellows
your stillness and the reverence of
the lucky few who still get to view you

Please, be my full moon
gleam pink on glistening sea
stars punctuate the night sky
dark waves roll under your pull

Come, be my camera
my journey and my roadtrip
take me out my own front door
be my window

April 2020

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *