Paul Ilechko
Accepting of Boundaries
Imagine living in a house with windows
that don’t fit properly
there are so many possibilities
imagine that someone was firing a gun
in the street
and now the glass is broken
there was a truck parked but now it’s gone
and you don’t know who it belonged to
you tell yourself that you should be prepared
for so many things that will likely never happen
there were people in the coffee shop today
speaking with a strange accent
but you made no effort to understand who or why
it wasn’t your problem to resolve
and for once you had accepted your boundaries
you are wearing new earrings tonight
and life feels clean and fresh again
driving in the dark on the highway
you pay close attention to each type of light
and how they fit together into a giant puzzle
a sort of electronic maze
if you continue to drive you will reach the ocean
you can park there and walk out onto the sand
find interesting shells
and forget every one of the problems
that you have left behind you in the city.
Sawdust and Vinegar
I grew up between the aroma of sawdust
and the stink of vinegar
magpies laughing from the vicarage woods
on a rare day of excessive humidity
Steve would peer over the dividing wall
dressed in the flared jeans and velvet jacket
that he wore for the latter half of his life
looking more drugged than he ever really was
at least until the sickness dragged the factory’s
thickness up from out of his blood
violence was a part of our growing up
but never the sound of gunfire in those days
we barely connected to the arterial
system of major highways
and any stranger that strayed into town would
slalom in low gear through the overlapping
patterns of boys playing street football
my own dream of a different direction
would finally be initiated by unexpected travel
the plot gradually evolving as I struggled
to peer through the dusty windows
wiping clean a pathway to the future.
