Echo of Frank O’Hara

This is it – Echo poem on Mayakovsky by Frank O’Hara. I really like his poem and I can only hope mine did it justice.

28 to Create, Day 15 – Echo Day
Echo of Mayakovsky by Frank O’Hara

wilted forest
Image credit: Sylwia77 at DeviantArt

I have no senses
looking out of the window
smile on my lips. Oh, goodness,
why is it, I wonder.
If you would just stay out
and not meddle anymore
letting me forget your hands
soft on my breasts, so quiet now!

then I will go in, instead of
just sitting to stare.

I want to forget you,
forget you, but remember my thoughts
where cold crept
like a thief.

Ideas! Get off me,
like I am off you, get back,
have a drink, play cards,

so that I can try and cheat,
forgetting I am no liar
but the worst actress in
my universe.

I know how to sweep you
off my brow!
The window gets misty

and stained with permanent breath.
I try to kiss it away,
but only smear it more.
The fog of remembrance.

No wonder it’s misty
I cried my eyes out
which is stupid when you’re out of love!
so now the glass detergent is
mixed with salt,
nevertheless I wipe my kerchief
looking out at the stupidly smiling street.
All the cars and people rushing
in the sunshine when I only need sleep.

Then I stare hard at the swarming bugs down
waiting to see if you’re one of them
finally coming to let me go
and leave me be in my shelter.

Outside is colourful, with patches of
green and yellow, because of the flags
pulled on strings across the street
from building to building
to celebrate how I’m over you.

That should be a national holiday
only if the nation cared
for me. Should it? Would it? Why not?
Maybe that’s the answer.

© 2014, soulmary

Featured image by Heremod at DeviantArt

Author: soul mary

Writer, poet and reader