Pause for poetry:
Tamara Nazywalskyj /2

A poem that discusses March, a changing of seasons, and moments of self-reflection

By Tamara Nazywalskyj

Walking on Sidewalks

Someone else’s opinion is fishing line in a tree.
March, you, see what you do to
me. You wring me
like I’m your rag –
but meteorologically
things are looking up.

Something about me is weak.
First week of spring, and the moodometer
says: receding neige lines,
of the hair lines, back to back
back to smooth skin.

See me en train de fondre
and think me sweet – maybe you are bitter.
I am looking at you and you are
looking at me and the great thing about
eyes is,
I know.

Something about this
s(tr)ong breeze, breathe in
this sucre.
Sometimes I think I’ll suck
teeth right out of my gums
– and that you’ll see me differently.

March this time,
last week and the moodometer
says: even my eyes are getting greener
though I’ve been told
they’re so blue.
Song of my summit is turquoise
and the I(s) are taking off their shirts
to free their hearts.

Starting to look like March when you sing in that clé.
Like in (fr) mars, on (en) Mars, la planète (not the god or the chocolate)
of posters going up for the Missing Flowers.

Tickle me
until the time of the sun –
it is far it is far
think about the other I(s)
while we March alone – we could be close now

on this side of the walk.

Feature image: courtesy of Tamara Nazywalskyj

Read also: other articles by Tamara Nazywalskyj