by Catherine McGuire
“It wasn’t my old life I wanted, but the one that had eluded me.”
-- Michelle Glaser, Historic House, Astoria
As it turns out, mission statements can’t compete
with middle-aged lust; nor friendship with
Boxed photos, slowly deteriorating landmines
in a war signed off on last year, molder in the garage.
I page through sketchbooks, listen to Celtic harp.
Old wounds fester every night in dreams
that drop me back in it, shell-shocked,
like some mud-drenched pawn
forever losing at Waterloo.
Surely someone knows the proper outcome?
As if wars just end when the paper
is signed; as if bombed-out lives, stunned psyches
pick up pre-battle innocence and toddle off.
You never were what the pictures caught;
no point in re-examination.
My trajectory spun me so fast I lost my bearings.
Picking at the shattered bits, I perform
reconstructive surgery without ether,
stitching the gaps I can see
with inexpert fingers, trembling hands.
BIO: Catherine McGuire has been widely published over the past two decades, including The Lyric, New Verse News, The Smoking Poet, Poetry In Motion, Folio and Main Street Rag. She has a chapbook, “Joy Into Stillness: Seasons of Lake Quinault”, and is assistant director at CALYX Press.