North Carolina School of the Arts
Page 7
KILLING TIME
It was the summer that Grandma died
and my sister lost her baby
and I cried until I was numb
It was sticky after the evening rain
and the crickets were out
as Mom rocked on the porch singing kind of low
to keep her voice from cracking
Pop was in the back cleaning fish
that Dickie had caught
and I was sitting in the side yard
between two rose bushes
that smelled of stability and remorse
wondering where life could go
SHEILA CREEF
ON GREENER GRASS
I oftened wondered why my sister went around
with such a long face
I never dreamed she had no place to put her troubles
There was a frog and a yo-yo in my back pocket
but I would have gladly let her keep them there
I always burried mine under the pecan tree
in the side yard
while she tried to whistle away the hours
on the front porch swing
What a waste I thought
if I were she
I’d be running down the beach
letting all the boys see how pretty I am
then ignoring them completely
I never dreamed I was on greener grass than she
SHEILA CREEF
w
R
I
T
I
N
G
CELEBRATION
L (“.. .skating home on thin ice from the Apocalypse” - Verandah,
from Ray Mungo’s Famous Long Ago)
Once again
I’m on the streets,
spending my time with broken soldiers
and hiding between these ragged sheets.
I’ve grown so thin and pale this month.
Is it me
or just the time of year?
^arlet lips invite me
into shameless comers
where ladies with crystal wrists
incite my midnight hours.
I’ve been twisted
and I’ve been scorned;
I’ve been wanted
and I’ve been needed.
I’ve looked over the edge.
2. (Edge City)
A loser from the battles
(Great Babylon has fallen!)
passed through here this year.
He gave me
ancient shadows and barren landscapes
to place upon
my empty walls.
And with a rope
he sealed the night
and let it stop at that.
I cringed and prayed aloud
that I might see his face,
that I might see his pain.
3. (Edge City Revisited)
Close my eyes, I can’t sleep,
wait for(ever) dawn, watch the sky,
settle down and think.
Motors numing in the street,
signs flash off and on . . .
My lover looks twice
and locks the door . . .
saints in Heaven bow their heads.
JOHN JOHN KENNEDY AND HIS FOUR MAN BAND
Kiss my lips,
I am going away forever.
Kiss my lips,
I will dream forever.
up from rag trapping to buster browns brass buttons
came John John kennedy and his four man band
and the world was right cause we were number 1
then some stary eyed Indian started to write
on a bathroom wall
and here came the dish rag boys
their brass got shinier and the boys got louder
someone had to go
may called time but June said no
GO TO HELL
so
john John got his band together and moved west
John John’s hair got longer and his brass buttons fell off
the hovs nnirnH nr>
the boys paired up
and what was left
some stary eyed indian writing
on a bathroom wall
GO TO HELL
SHEILA CREEF
IT’S TIME
It’s time to awake.
The dream is over.
Rub you foggy eyes
And say your line again,
No need to cry.
Maybe tomorrow
Your dreams will last.
I am lost forever.
It’s too late . . .
It’s too late . . .
It’s too late to stop now.
(Did you die
with amphetamine dreams
numing ’round your brain?
Was the music over?
Did you turn out the light?
Did your Jewish mother
toss in her sleep?
Did your step-father snore?
And what was it like
when you knew you were dying?)
5. (Epitaph)
The streets are filled with angels,
circles of angles, left behind.
They cross their hearts
and weep, while the world
looks away.
Angels weary angels,
walking on alone.
They are going away for ever.
For ARTHUR CAMUS,
who saw the edge and stepped over.
MICHAEL SINGLETON
MICK FERGUSON