Wednesday, March 25, 2009

It should be Pattie's birthday today

Wind Chime Woman
(for Pattie)

chittering wind chimes remind me
of you and our lonesomest times

how many nights did we spend together
banishing demons or men for each other

laughing or crying on my porch or yours, mostly
over cheques that either bounced or never arrived

so why didn’t you phone instead of going to that hotel
sitting it out alone on a bed for three crying days

and how did you ever find yourself so many pills so many colours,
how many drinks did you have to force down to work up the nerve to swallow

you knew that the maids would let you sleep in, not find you 'til afternoon
knew they all loved you and worried for you, saw how you tipped too much

but now I need to pretend, imagine you wearing your turquoise robe
picture your hair swirling red on the pillow, how you’d want it to look

and for once I hear no pounding nails or cutting lawns or
too fast trucks driving down this narrow street of ours

just the storm blowing strong
through the wind chimes


Anonymous said...

Heidi, though I never met your friend Pattie, your poem has me grieving her ...

A beautiful lamentation. Bravo.

hg said...

Thank you, Anon. Pattie's been gone for over a decade, but she's someone who's often in mind. This piece first appeared in a chapbook called Chickweed which I think might still be available from Four Corner Books.