Poem
Jane Yeh
This Morning,
This Morning,
This Morning,
The romance of the world washed over me.My heart swelled with positive feelings, not œdema.
The forklift out the window beeped I LUV U in Morse code.
A curious pigeon molested my birdfeeding contraption.
I pined longingly for my absent biscuits, which had been eaten last week.
Even the unfriendly cat sensed the fragility of the moment
And refrained from licking its bits. How sweet
It was to breathe the sausage-scented air, and feel
The throb of the washing machine like a second heart
Keeping me true. In the garden a host of petunias dangled
And waved their skinny limbs. Oh darlings,
Some days are painted with high-saturation pigment, some
Are faint as a blueprint seen from space—today the bees
Are droning a hosanna to wish me bonne journée.
It’s ridiculous to be so full of honey for a living.
It’s ridiculous how ardently the washing machine sings.
Dear pigeon, I used to be a heretic from the world—
Then romance washed over me. I think I might believe.
© 2012, Jane Yeh
From: The Ninjas
Publisher: Carcanet, Manchester
From: The Ninjas
Publisher: Carcanet, Manchester
Jane Yeh
(United States of America, 1971)
With just two collections, Jane Yeh has established herself in the UK poetry world as an assured, witty, linguistically adept magpie. Taking her subjects from almost anywhere, her poems explore what identity means in a world of appearances. Paintings, robots, animals – even the owl who was chosen to play the owl in the Harry Potter movie – show us facets of ourselves.
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This Morning,
The romance of the world washed over me.My heart swelled with positive feelings, not œdema.
The forklift out the window beeped I LUV U in Morse code.
A curious pigeon molested my birdfeeding contraption.
I pined longingly for my absent biscuits, which had been eaten last week.
Even the unfriendly cat sensed the fragility of the moment
And refrained from licking its bits. How sweet
It was to breathe the sausage-scented air, and feel
The throb of the washing machine like a second heart
Keeping me true. In the garden a host of petunias dangled
And waved their skinny limbs. Oh darlings,
Some days are painted with high-saturation pigment, some
Are faint as a blueprint seen from space—today the bees
Are droning a hosanna to wish me bonne journée.
It’s ridiculous to be so full of honey for a living.
It’s ridiculous how ardently the washing machine sings.
Dear pigeon, I used to be a heretic from the world—
Then romance washed over me. I think I might believe.
From: The Ninjas
This Morning,
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