Thursday 2 October 2014


they are calling this month, this year.
And who wants to miss
the golden month,
the golden year?

So I tuck my auto-antibodied
phenoxymethylpenicillined feet
into golden sandals
and find a tree.

Up between the branches
I see wing curves drifting
and between my toes,
leaves crackle.
'Auburn,' I tell myself. 'Not rust, dry,
dead, bones.'

And when the light falls a certain way,
I can almost believe what they say.

© Shaista Tayabali, 2014
I am beset by infection. Three of them playing havoc. The dentist informed me that my wisdom tooth infection could be life-threatening if I was unlucky. Shall I add that to my other life-threatening illness? (I didn't ask, but thought.) He is rather dishy (for a dentist), so I grinned on the outside, grim on the inside. And fled. 

Golden October sun this afternoon so I take a book and Ming's pen out for a walk. I sit under the horse chestnut, meaning to read quietly, but my landlady's son has spied me, and keeps running to me to discuss conkers and pick pieces of bark to make conker and bacon-bark sandwiches. My legs are stretched out before us, making handy tables for our bowls of soup… when his mother comes to collect him, he commands me to hold still, admonishing me even as he is lifted into the back seat of the car. Head skewed at an alarming angle, hollering instructions as she drives away. He is four.
When he is gone, I write about birds and dead leaves. And when I finish the poem, I see that I was wrong about the dead and the dry. The tree is the most alive thing. I can hear her shaking herself free, shrugging off leaves that curl and somersault after their own hula hooping sway to a soft crackling flump beside me. I keep thinking I hear footfalls.
I hold very still till Connor returns. 
Autumn in Madeira by Jacek Yerka via Magpie Tales


Tess Kincaid said...

There is healing in the trees...sending you good thoughts...

ds said...

Beautiful poem, Shaista; exquisite in its touch of melancholy. And then the realization that trees can heal. Yes. Hoping you are feeling better now...

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I love how you adore children - and how they adore you! I share your teeth woes......and am flummoxed at what to do about them. I agree - the tree is the most alive thing - she endures, and survives, and will you, dear Shaista!

Cloudia said...

Soak in the color and smell treatments of October and believe your golden aspirations inspirations respirations one at a time in the golden NOW your always home, Poet

ALOHA from Honolulu
=^..^= . <3 . >< } } (°>

A Cuban In London said...

An exquisite poem. I love autumn, my favourite season. I wish you better, I really do.

Greetings from London.

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