Monday, January 3, 2011

Tuesday Poem - Parsley by Chris Mansell



so I go outside
and pick parsley
to make tabouli
the burghul is
inside soaking
and the parsley
makes my hands
fresh and taste like
this is the closest
I can get
to describe it
and with truth
on my hands
I come inside
and think of hurt
how I cut you off so
brutally and
not wanting it
at all and you, no doubt,
angry and I no doubt
remorseful I loved you
in my own way
(always the worst
way to love)

I couldn’t take
- any more -
your attempts
to captivate and
educate but
I wanted your
sweet lips your
sweet body
that look that comes
out of the corner
of your eye
when you
make a joke

I wash the parsley
and pull the stalks off
take the truth
into my mouth
it makes
the breath fresh
they say but
my heart
still stinks

Here is another poem by Chris Mansell who writes so many irresistible poems. I heard her read this one when she was featuring at The Dan and, goodness me, it was powerful. If you get a chance to hear her read, well, I won't say crawl over broken glass to get there, but definitely make a bit of an effort.

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