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Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Complaint About Missing Friends after Ten Months of the Pandemic

No one near to see or hear me but the dog,

who sighs when I say serious things & I’m dead

serious when I tell her how her gray muzzle

is softer than Samarkand silk.


No one to tell I just read that on hot summer

nights, Verlaine threw pail after pail after

cold water pail on the gravel under Rimbaud’s

windows, to cool the air as he slept.


No one to side-step with me to some silly tune —

as the dog’s tail wags out of rhythm — or listen

to my Flemish song about spring coming soon

& the Phallus Impudicus being almost in bloom.


To see me kneel by the rosemary, breathing in

its oily green before night will come flitting

into the yard & the skunks & racoons join in

to feast on such fresh darkness.


No friends to be here with me & all this & wave,

fondly, as they leave the rosemary, the dog, the evening

& me. But leaving behind that lilt in their voices —

goodnight, goodnight.


-----

Copyright 2021 Laure-Anne Bosselaar. First published in The Pedestal, #87.

Laure-Anne Bosselaar is the author of These Many Rooms (Four Way Books, 2019) and served as Poet Laureate of Santa Barbara until April 2021.

2 comments on “Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Complaint About Missing Friends after Ten Months of the Pandemic

  1. Rose Mary Boehm
    September 6, 2021

    LOVE it! Smiling.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Barbara Huntington
    September 6, 2021

    My dog, my garden, my rosemary, my solitude. This is beautiful and I am in awe of the universality of the specific. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

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This entry was posted on September 6, 2021 by in Health and Nutrition, Poetry and tagged , , , , .

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