Poems: Crispin Best

poem at the dinner table

here
 is
  the
   thing:

     the
      real
       reason
        i
         don’t
          let
           people
            get
             close
              to
               me
                is
                 this
                  faux
                   denim
                    shirt

                      i’m
                       scared
                        that
                         they
                          will
                           be
                            able
                             to
                              tell
 
 
                                 at
                                  the
                                   dinner
                                    table
                                     i
                                      ask
                                       for
                                        your
                                         thoughts
                                          on
                                           wind
                                            turbines
                                             “big
                                              fan”
                                               you
                                                say

                                                  we
                                                   try
                                                    not
                                                     to
                                                      laugh
                                                       and
                                                        through
                                                         the
                                                          window
                                                           look
                                                            at
                                                             the
                                                              bad
                                                               clouds
                                                                being
                                                                 bad
                                                                  and
                                                                   the
                                                                    good
                                                                     clouds
                                                                      being
 
 
                                                                        clouds
 
 
 
                                                                        here
                                                                       is
                                                                      the
                                                                     thing:

                                                                   there
                                                                  are
                                                                 even
                                                                tiny
                                                               movements
                                                              of
                                                             your
                                                            fingers
                                                           that
                                                          i
                                                         don’t
                                                        completely
                                                       understand

                                                     sometimes
                                                    i
                                                   get
                                                  halfway
                                                 through
                                                a
                                               poem
                                              and
                                             it’s
                                            nearly
                                           night

                                         the
                                        same
                                       sunset
                                      has
                                     been
                                    travelling
                                   around
                                  the
                                 earth
                                for
                               millions
                              of
                             years

                           it
                          is
                         good
                        to
                       be
                      talked
                     to
                    also
                   to
                  hear
                 people
                sleep
 
              here
               is
                the
                 thing:

                   between
                    the
                     boiler’s
                      ticks
                       i
                        hear
                         you
                          whisper
                           that
                            you
                             had
                              a
                               hunch
                                about
                                 the
                                  shirt
 
 
 
 
 
                                        from
                                         this
                                          great
                                           distance
                                            i
                                             make
                                              my
                                               arms

                                                 the
                                                  perfect
                                                   length
 
 
 
* * *
 
 

this is how

i
 saw
  a
   sad
    person
     on
      the
       morning
        train
         a
          sad
           person
            on
             a
              lounger
               beside
                a
                 rooftop
                  swimming
                   pool
                    another
                     sad
                      person
                       in
                        a
                         safari
                          park
                           with
                            the
                             hyenas
                              some
                               people
                                have
                                 expensive
                                  umbrellas
                                   and
                                    are
                                     still
                                      sad
                                       i
                                        go
                                         to
                                          work
                                           on
                                            the
                                             morning
                                              train
                                               and
                                                i
                                                 am
                                                  brave
                                                   though
                                                    it
                                                     is
                                                      true
                                                       that
                                                        i
                                                         can
                                                          come
                                                           home
                                                            and
                                                             make
                                                              myself
                                                               a
                                                                sandwich
                                                                 by
                                                                  putting
                                                                   a
                                                                    slice
                                                                     of
                                                                      bread
                                                                       on
                                                                        either
                                                                         side
                                                                          of
                                                                           my
                                                                            face
                                                                             birds
                                                                              have
                                                                               no
                                                                                idea
                                                                                 what
                                                                                  they
                                                                                   are
                                                                                    doing
                                                                                     and
                                                                                      this
                                                                                       is
                                                                                        how
                                                                                         i
                                                                                          am
                                                                                           like

                                                                                             birds

 
 
[You can also view these poems as a PDF here.]
 
 
Crispin Best lives in London and on the internet at www.crispinbest.com.

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