Dashing in Blue by Rebecca Surmont
Hello I say so far under my breath
that it is to myself.
I greet a chair that should be rocking
facing the television
but someone has turned it
so it is not in proper placement.
there are so many scented people here
I cannot identify the Old Spice
echo in his sweaters even as I crawl
through the closet as if to enter Narnia
and find the door is sealed shut. A balloon
decoration centers over the kitchen window
airing a garish lament
reminding of what we were here for.
outside a brigade of aged birch and fir
crack against each other climbing
their way skyward dwarfing us
I remember he loved their green
and looked so dashing in blue.
Rebecca Surmont grew up in Michigan with a first love in performance. She worked as a Mime, physical theater actor, dancer, and collaborative teaching artist throughout the Midwest. Her poems have been in Minneapolis' Southwest Journal, New Verse News, Silver Birch Press, Ekphrastic Review, and the anthology, Seasons, by Trolley Car Press.