April is National Poetry Month. This year’s theme is ‘Time’… Join us, every school day throughout the month of April, for a feature poem on the theme.
I told her, in plain language, how I felt.
And by that I mean I mumbled a poorly
paraphrased and already cryptic passage
from one of Yeats’s later poems.
When she asked, “What was that?” I said, “Nothing.
Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” It mattered,
of course. “Ma vie est usée. Allons, feignons … ”
On second thought, it doesn’t matter at all.
The fuel in the sun is finite. It must be.
But I guess I won’t think that in L.A.
I’m inattentive the way a husband is —
confident there’s always tomorrow.
Warm July wind in the downtown square
where the U.S. bible industry’s located.
Your hair blowing about, not saying much,
the last time someone seemed happy to see me.
David McGimpsey was born and raised in Ville d’Anjou. He lives in Montreal and teaches at Concordia University. The CBC named him as one of the top 10 English poets in Canada. A journalist, editor, and comedian, he also plays guitar in a band called Puggy Hammer.