BIRDLAND JOURNAL

Celebrating Northern California Voices

Illusions
by Michael Holland

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i.

I sit across from you
sapphires meeting icy blues
words spilling like a downpour
on thirsty rain forests.

The phrases are diminutive.
See, it’s not what you say
it’s what you don’t.
Shadows emerge in your syllables
as sentences tumble into green puddles.

All I see is black.

ii.

When we started to date,
you vowed to never lie
that lies are insidious,
destructive to relationships;
my mind cleared
and I let go of skepticism.

This was about honor, respect.

Instead I play the hapless fool
easily herded by collies
that nip at my heels.

But to my horror
you just stand there
clapping your hands.

I  reminisce about cotton yesterdays.

iii.

The dream occurred again,
the one where I slip into mud
and sink below the surface
as I try to grab your hand.

I cannot breathe,
suffocation imminent
as I swim to the waking world
where I gasp in desperation.

I feel like a hollowed log
no substance in the middle
to prove I have a heart.

iv.

Your moods gleam silver
sometimes opaque, sometimes caliginous
but never transparent.

You’re clever like a teacher’s pet
always producing a shiny, red apple.
If I bite into its flesh,
I create sin.
If I don’t, the fruit rots,
the skin remaining polished
for only a finite amount of time.

Which path will I take?

Decisions are monotonous.

v.

Your name should be Venom;
you spew sarcasm
as if it was swollen treasure
when confronted with truths;
you’re lethal without serum.

My name is Naiveté
or would it be Stupid?

I understand why I love you.
Your charm is unparalleled,
your intelligence is massive,
your creativity dynamic.
You can be kind, affectionate.

But I always wonder
if I made a deal with the Dark Side
and your failure to be forthright
a punishment for intensity.

The good news is I don’t suffer alone.

vi.

I have yet to reach a resolution
a regret that reoccurs.
You’re like a caged animal
unable to be tamed
and I am no trainer.

So I listen without prejudice
and you cannot blame me.

Saying things are what get you into trouble,
for you always get caught.
It’s beneath you
but I cannot convince a jury to acquit.
You become my criminal.
and I need to toss out the key
to your jail cell
and just move on.

Toss out the key
and just move on.

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