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Noelle Kocot’s Followers (21)
Noelle Kocot
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Poem for the End of Time and Other Poems
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published
2006
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2 editions
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The Bigger World
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published
2011
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2 editions
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Sunny Wednesday
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published
2009
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Phantom Pains of Madness
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published
2016
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2 editions
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Soul in Space
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published
2013
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3 editions
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4
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published
2001
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The Raving Fortune
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published
2004
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God's Green Earth
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Ascent of the Mothers
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Sonnets
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published
2017
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3 editions
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“I Want Something of Yours for Comfort When I Sleep
Awake before the cupboard slams open.
These hours scrape by like snow shovels.
I have dreamed of you again.
Too late, you said, for me, but not for you,
With the folly of a train darkening
In the failing embers of winter.
So I went on, flapping through time like a saw
In the wind, or like a melting fist
Weaned on the hardy light of day,
While the fading of our modesties
Blossomed into a cancer on love’s faulty tongue.
And now your hair flames brightly in my kitchen cups.”
―
Awake before the cupboard slams open.
These hours scrape by like snow shovels.
I have dreamed of you again.
Too late, you said, for me, but not for you,
With the folly of a train darkening
In the failing embers of winter.
So I went on, flapping through time like a saw
In the wind, or like a melting fist
Weaned on the hardy light of day,
While the fading of our modesties
Blossomed into a cancer on love’s faulty tongue.
And now your hair flames brightly in my kitchen cups.”
―
“The Peace that So Lovingly Descends”
“You” have transformed into “my loss.”
The nettles in your vanished hair
Restore the absolute truth
Of warring animals without a haven.
I know, I’m as pathetic as a railroad
Without tracks. In June, I eat
The lonesome berries from the branches.
What can I say, except the forecast
Never changes. I sleep without you,
And the letters that you sent
Are now faded into failed lessons
Of an animal that’s found a home. This.”
― Sunny Wednesday
“You” have transformed into “my loss.”
The nettles in your vanished hair
Restore the absolute truth
Of warring animals without a haven.
I know, I’m as pathetic as a railroad
Without tracks. In June, I eat
The lonesome berries from the branches.
What can I say, except the forecast
Never changes. I sleep without you,
And the letters that you sent
Are now faded into failed lessons
Of an animal that’s found a home. This.”
― Sunny Wednesday
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