Thursday, December 23, 2010

Baggage

I kept a psychic distance;
now my feet ache from
walking over headlands where
your frustrations and boredom were
threatening from time to time.

Needs I have no
desire to fill.
You walk me to the gate,
I shake
your hand.

It began as a chance encounter
in waves
at dusk.

So you tracked me down,
you rushed to me,
a poor advertisement for
social networking and
impulsiveness verging on desperation,
reaching for a lifebuoy.

You sped towards an immovable object,
already past the saturation point of sadness,
so I averted my eyes
but still, you couldn't see.

What is it these freaks need from me?
What is it I need from them?

Don't pressure me:
leave me in peace.
Go in peace,
I implore you,
in the name of my
peace of mind
and my safety.

Your heavily loaded statements
called to me for answers.
I have no answers
so you get my silence.

Justine Reilly © 2010

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Stranded in Ballina

I follow the
footprints of a dog.

A rust-coloured butterfly surveys
tyre tracks made in wet clay.

My heart lifted
by the tone of red rocks
emerging from earth.

The dog pisses on a boulder;
its owner,
dressed in a black skirt swimsuit,
looks sheepish and proud.

A man in the foreground
appears to run faster than
a sailboat gliding in the distance.

He stops to behold the vessel,
turns, walks in the opposite direction
and becomes a smaller version
of the man I first knew.

Cool, salty air fills my chest cavity
with a deep disregard for the sweat
formerly formed between
bikini cups.

My mind thanks the world
for the respite of occasional clarity.

By Justine Reilly © 2010