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2008-Janus for GK Poetry Club.rtf 09.05.19 10:01 PM

Ianus-Solstice poem

by Guy A. Duperreault (for a Golden Key Poetry Club Christmas poem challenge Dec 2008)

Ianus-Solstice poem

Our breath crackles to ice in the blue cold clear cold spit freezing cold day.The dust dry snow squeaks under our thickly booted feet – no snowballs today.Against my want I have been maternally dragged from Christmas games and toys,To be Christmasy neighbourly. And we actually were, I think. Maybe.I think we were, At least we were with one or two neighbours, the neighbourly ones.And the walk in the cold blue cold clear blue air puffed my breath around my faceAnd iced it to it and to the ugly scarfAnd had Beauty Peace Quietus.

Wild blueberry pie baking wafts through the house.Wild, wow wonderful Blueberry Pie baking dances up the nose into forever memory!And I don't think once, I know not why not, Not once of long familial dog day summer hoursPicking tiny tiny blue bent-back-blue tiny gems from arduous shrubsNot four inches above the quiet forest floor – so quiet! – into a bottomless empty bottomless plink plink gallon plastic bottomless blue bucket plop plink plink."Remember to pick clean!" rings through the underbrush.And never – that night meticulous picking out tiny sticks and leafy and green minutia – clean enough.The smell untasted, haloes a promised aura of things yet to taste,Tomorrow.And tomorrow kin tongues wag food and politics and booze and gifts un-rapt and Christmases past and…

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2008-Janus for GK Poetry Club.rtf 09.05.19 10:01 PM

Now the ghost of Christmas past fills bespectacled eyes as I move through the kitchen, creating with hands from book the smells of shortbread – with a hint of lemon zest, almond cherry Christmas cake butter tarts – world's best! cookies cranberry sauce, thick homemade with orange …No blueberry pie. Odd.But free range turkey and bacon,Homemade stuffing.The winter's solstice embraces the sun and the days of remembrance are longer.But is this the sum of all, that I am this clutch, gaggle, fraggle of food reveries?!When'd that happen? I don't wonder how. Odd.When did that happen, or maybe I simply missed my cauliflower calling me purée,And I am adrift in my inertia a prisoner of inertia comfortable in my inertia blithely blissfully unaware that my flailing is at heart inertAs days fumble rock-a-by inanity towards retirement and mortgage freedom and …I am spinning out of control a web to keep me kept in words of rationale and logic and frabjous mock turtle soup of the soul.Oh joy. I couldn't even manage to not use 'frabjous'?!Even my words are prisoners of endless inertia. Joy to the word? Just pass me the gravy,The grave rich gravy, dark and deep,For I have place settings to prep,And tables to set before I eatAnd meals to eat before I sleep.