By Amy Simone Piller
In a bar late
I want affection
and you want me
to be confident
You find these things mutually exclusive
as if antonyms aren’t related
as if each opposite doesn’t rely on its other
to exist.
Down the bar
an extra-marital affair brews
I desert the vicinity
rambling about lack of trust.
You are offended
I just mean logically speaking
perhaps we need more
than our opposites.
I am not mad
I am not sad
I am trying
to mix our toxins
to make a muddled hangover
worse than stark reality.
By Amy Simone Piller
Floating sounds
bathed bliss
confidence strumming
cresendo on crescendo
amorous fantasy
forever sounding
spontaneous rhythm
ever changing routine
unending keys of new
no choral cravings
nonlinear you
a speck in the world
to follow to hold
to blow like a daisy seed
hoping
to listen to, to dance to
I want your trance
chance me, write me
trust me, love
you play my mind all day
long songs still untold
lie in my breasts
the world is our cleft
one note at a time
By Amy Simone Piller
A son scares
when first he sees his father play
a part, we are all so fixed-gear
chugging up-hill continuously
A girl delights
When first a construction worker turns
His head not bent on jack-hammering
Concrete; we are physical creatures; neat
Simple joys of perspective
later seduced by knowing
more than meets the eye.
By Amy Simone Piller
In tenth grade the teacher said
“The paper is due tomorrow
I don’t want to hear about any broken arms
or anything.”
That evening I hurt my shoulder
playing basketball
cry begged my mom
to type what I said
despite her protestations
the absurdity, my hysteria
we needed to go to the doctor
I wouldn’t budge
I was someone who
followed directions
what was wrong with that
gosh darn it?
I still remember tying my arm
my mom’s blue scarf the next morning
to get on the subway
to hand her the paper and say
“I’m sorry
I have to go to the emergency room
I think I hurt my shoulder.”
After surgery, the doctor said
my shoulder fell from its socket
as soon as the anesthesia took hold
my body relaxed, rotator cuff tear clear
broken clavicle, dented back
ready to be cared for.
Later the teacher called my house
sputtering apologies to my mother,
my mother blaming me
for misinterpreting
Yesterday I find two of my students
in hysterics over pieces due tomorrow
and I pick my brain for what I said
what gesture I made to make them fear this way
and think about teaching them figurative language
their growing interpretive brilliance
of my own hidden messages to never ever give up
By Amy Simone Piller
I.
Along the empty subway tunnel
rats work busily and life teems
unafraid of oncoming trains
Small enough to avoid danger
we muse until the repeated onslaught
of will we make it
until the imminence of decisions
the night before worse than the morning of
II.
Wrap up who you are
in a small blanket
watch it face a storm
like sporting match
like tennis
only the core sustaining
When in the throes
your plan means nothing
scraps survive
Hold tight to what matters
though you can’t know
until after
By Amy Simone Piller
OCCUPY
No one ever thanks the occupiers
we prefer our own sleazy leaders
to paved over explosions
In our need to fix
we disconnect
reality wanes
philosophy guides
nobody wins
Grabbing childhood toys ingrained
Television worship heralded
pedestalled sound bytes
masking as communication
Jumping from planes
backpacks overflow
Campers stake tents
tides reverse
fighting nature an old curse
Hands lose grasp
cities rise
weeds sprayed
grass roots mostly lose
The world once flat
three dimensioned
a mobius strip of grasping formed
Redecorating
flags up and down
earrings on a night out
we build to be undone
where went the starry night?
By Amy Simone Piller
Hold someone
on a bike
Let it wobble not fall
keep it right
Calmly repeat
many times:
“Shoulders down,
pedal faster, steer!”
Don’t be afraid
only wince from behind
Convince yourself
she’ll clear upcoming poles
Let go
By Amy Simone Piller
I.
In tenth grade the teacher said
“The paper is due tomorrow
I don’t want to hear
about any broken arms
or anything”
That evening I hurt my shoulder
playing basketball
and cry begged my mom
to type what I said
despite her protestations
the absurdity, my hysteria
we needed to go to the doctor
I wouldn’t budge
I wanted to be someone
who exceeded expectations
What was wrong with that
gosh darn it?
I still remember tying my arm
in my mom’s blue scarf
the next morning
to get on the subway
to hand her the paper and say
“I’m sorry I have to go
to the emergency room
I think I hurt my shoulder”
After surgery, the doctor said
as soon as the anesthesia took hold
my shoulder fell from its socket
my body relaxed
rotator cuff tear clear
broken clavicle, dented back
ready to be cared for
Later the teacher called my house
sputtering apologies to my mother,
my mother blaming me
for misinterpreting
Despite delirium
I had no regret
II.
Yesterday I found two of my students
in hysterics over writing due tomorrow
I pick my brain for what I said
what gesture I made
to make them fear this way
It dawns on me
I’ve discussed double meanings
I smile over their growing
interpretive brilliance;
my own hidden messages
to never ever give up
By Amy Simone Piller
I.
When in last place in a race
I swim differently
flailing arms
tacking zig zag patterns
frantic yet unceasing
quitting unimaginable
less effort yields drowning
no give up
Instant replay wish
to grant myself serene childishness
re-conjure me up, fearlessly risk loss
scraped knee smiling learned something new
(not a modicum of knowledge
a fact wouldn’t do)
Strive higher (as big as learning to read)
re-conceive how I’ve seen
for the joy of possibility
for the challenge of overwhelm
for the it always gets better
belief of youth, don’t let it go
smooth stroke confident flow
II.
Reality drowns harder than a race
(and easier to fake)
no promises guaranteed
just attempting
to not shield oneself form attempting
Though someone somewhere is winning
(she looks nicer, he got a promotion)
I am fine after all
All days are beautiful
rethought clouds
By Amy Simone Piller
September is hard on perfectionists
nothing is done, anxiety surmounts
prior beginnings replay in memory
like radio songs recalling lost loves
But little footsteps will arrive tomorrow
little faces count on us to overcome
our notions of supposed to and just right
Don’t give up, at all costs, remain calm