Unravelling Worlds - a poem by Chris Zachariou

 

Toxic Love in Unravelling Worlds

Once, I was a poet.
The master will not redeem me now—
a rebel against the teachers of the metre.
In vain, I scribble garbled words for pennies
that no one ever reads. 

All the horrors of my life—reams
of pages pasted on the tunnel walls.
I'm nothing now — an old gypsy, my pen
Is dry and all my poems are fake.

Your smoke signals are vague.
A modern day Odysseas, I sail my
wrecked schooner to the world you borrowed—
a seething world of green and rage.

My colossus of the perfect rhyme,
you should not have wasted your gift!
How will I know it’s you when we meet?
Have you changed much? I never
really knew you then though, did I?

There is a monkey dancing
on the shoulder of the moon
and you my love, fiddling old tunes
on your pretend Stradivarius violin.

All the time, the little voice gets louder.
She shrieks in my ear—you are so wrong.
And even though it’s crazy
I wait for you each dusk by the shore.

Trekking down south, I thank her
for a lifetime of sadness.
She cries, she quivers, and calls me a pervert,
but who will get to press the button first?

Part of the Mosaics cycle of poems