Poetry » Garth Pavell »

Her Ulterior Motive’s Ulterior Motive

Her ulterior motive’s ulterior motive
was beginning to show a little leg.

For some time she’d been hiking
her dress with unspoken promises.

The allegorical white tights egging on
what was once deliciously criminal.

She said things like getting to know
someone is knowing when to not.

As her butt belly danced under
her dress knowing what not to say.

Did You Really Think

My house on the beach
wouldn’t notice your garden
staring out to sea?

All summer I stood beside
your tangled tomatoes bathing
in the wind under a two-faced sky.

I never once asked for the remote
and so the shopping network blindly
pitched our last holiday together.

How bizarre it was to see crabs
making love on the lawn at dawn
as the ocean’s endless curtain closed.

The last barbeque was a doozy.
Remember our fire went out and you
shouted there would be no dessert.

Of course I disagreed. And then
in the night our moonlit minds
temporarily agreed to never say never.

It’s funny how we drown
the dreams that once kept us afloat
even though everything is unsinkable.

In our self-inflicted mote.

Traveling Through Space

My mind is like a Buddha on a mountainside
Surmising the kingdom of my vast existences

The musicality of the sun looming like a perfume
Pollinating the chromosomes of connecting clouds

Then again it could be the wine I had with lunch
A South African Cabernet intravenously seeping

My underground railroad I suppose that pits me
Against kissing ass in the presence of strangers

Intergalactically downstream where my fish
Spawn in the palm of night covered indifference

I sometimes sit on the porch where it took
Me years of dying to know my dream is

Wide awake, pulsing in the blood of outer space
Becoming the thing you think I am without