Poem: 'Foggy Notion' by Alison Stone

Foggy Notion

By Alison Stone

It is midnight and a slice of moon

reflects off branches of the trees

we sat under. I walk in the dangerous rain and watch

cars roll home toward hangovers

and vows that seem important

during the short hours between breakfast and betrayal.

There are many wrong solutions

to the crossword of our families and jobs. All the Downs

are film stars and islands off the coast of Spain.

Everything Across is money in one of its masks.

We carry on through marriages and reruns

of the seasons and the rain. One can't even

eat dry chicken and peas on a tray in safety. A gorilla

or a topless girl is bound to turn up

with birthday greetings

and a kiss on the cheek from Aunt Harriett.

I wear expensive ugly modern clothes and stab people

with jewelry. Music is the rope we grab

from the windows of skyscrapers where we now sleep alone

with memories of festivals and fields

and years when unsafe sex brought only babies.

The tears fall and the pages turn, revealing answers.

They backstroke toward us on the waves

of sure forgotten things,

then flip and disappear as the tide rolls out.

From They Sing at Midnight, MMM Press, 2003