{"id":1446,"date":"2012-01-01T17:35:55","date_gmt":"2012-01-01T17:35:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=1446"},"modified":"2012-01-05T01:31:12","modified_gmt":"2012-01-05T01:31:12","slug":"ian-c-smith-0112","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/ian-c-smith-0112\/","title":{"rendered":"Ian C. Smith, 01\/12"},"content":{"rendered":"

Prepositions<\/strong><\/p>\n

his school a sentence he put up with
\nsexual innuendo he couldn\u2019t work out
\nthe city\u2019s night markets he yearned toward
\na loveless home life he cleared off from
\nexcitement he never got enough of
\nperplexing trouble he kept skidding into
\nrelationships he was urged to talk through
\nconfident others he wasn\u2019t as good as
\nbad situations he slipped out from under
\nadult education he felt he should take up
\nthe poetry lecturer he suffered for
\na secret affair everybody knew about
\ndivorce scars nobody gets over
\nthe bed he made and now lies alone in<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

So I read a lot<\/strong><\/p>\n

How can I be a character I pity
\nin short stories, a Gordon or an Ian
\nliving like a goldfish in Twilight Village
\nstill thinking only of himself, oblivious
\nof the staff\u2019s clear-eyed evaluation
\nor what happens in the minds of others
\nwhile he sits half-turned in a chair
\nhunched low, half-listening for the door.<\/p>\n

No poetry anthologies can be spotted
\njust colourful tracksuits, too large.
\nThey offer to share their feast of hours.
\nHe lies, pretends he isn\u2019t starving
\nstares out the window at guests leaving
\nquickly, away from TV\u2019s fake laughter
\nhis manners masking welling anger
\nthe strain to climb into time vanished.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s too late <\/em>could be the story\u2019s title.
\nTheir pub, the booze, bands, their songs
\nthe ebb and flow of her laugh
\nher ripe lips, hot breath in his mouth.
\nHe imagines her lonely somewhere
\nworries she is not, or maybe worse.
\nGordon\u2019s just the name of a character
\nin a slight story, in a slim volume.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Prepositions his school a sentence he put up with sexual innuendo he couldn\u2019t work out the city\u2019s night markets he yearned toward a loveless home life he cleared off from excitement he never got enough of perplexing trouble he kept skidding into relationships he was urged to talk through confident others he wasn\u2019t as good […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1446","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nIan C. 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