Terence Winch poems

Page 1Go

Social Security

- by Terence Winch 41

No one is safe. The streets are unsafe.
even in the safety zones, it's not safe.
Even safe sex is not safe.
Even things you lock in a safe
are not safe. Never deposit anything
in a safety deposit box, because it
won't be safe there. Nobody is safe
at home during baseball games anymore.

At night I go around in the dark
locking everything, returning
a few minutes later
to make sure I locked
everything. It's not safe here.
It's not safe and they know it.
People get hurt using safety pins.

It was not always this way.
Long ago, everyone felt safe. Aristotle
never felt danger. Herodotus felt danger
only when Xerxes was around. Young women
were afraid of wingéd dragons, but felt
relaxed otherwise. Timotheus, however,
was terrified of storms until he played
one on the flute. After that, everyone
was more afraid of him than of the violent
west wind, which was fine with Timotheus.
Euclid, full of music himself, believed only
that there was safety in numbers.

[from The Drift of Things, The Figures Press, 2001]
http://www.terencewinch.com

My Friends

- by Terence Winch 40

for Doug Lang

They came here first in a car shaped like a heart
and now they depart as brilliant jazz musicians.
They arrived in full costume, rolling north
through a winter of neon.
Now I watch them leaving me
in a moonlight of falsettos.

They are singing goodbye to me in the echo chamber
and I am smiling at them from my king-size window.
You get the idea.

I was always making way for the others.
Now, like an intake of breath, I am beside myself.

They tell me that God is inside us and I tell them
our fathers' teeth were white with fear. The streets
that I used to see from my window have faded away.
The birds I used to hear in the trees have fallen
on evil days. The beautiful girls who used to wear skintight
silver foil now dress in ugly shoes with big square tongues.
And the immaculate boys in their red velour are old men
who rock their bodies back and forth in grief.

But I take comfort in a dreamlike kind of consciousness
in which every breath is like my last breath
and all my friends are quiet as brides
skirting along on sheets of ice.

[from The Great Indoors, Story Line Press, 1995]
http://www.terencewinch.com
Copy URL

Page description:

Poems by Terence Winch, Terence Winch's poems collection. Terence Winch is a classical and famous poet . Share all poems of Terence Winch.

© Poems are the property of their respective owners, reproduced here for educational and informational purposes, and is provided at no charge.

Copy URL: Terence Winch poems http://www.qfak.com/poems/?id=1562