morning commute & what shall I do today
morning commute
that morning he left his house
microwaved at his neighbour and
got on the bus pondering all the lives
people carried around tucked away like a book
we’re constantly surrounded by pulses he thought
the little jilts and jolts of every living thing
astringent but probably benign
was it enough to sit like this he thought
as he watched a bee tap its head
against the window
over and over
what news would this bee have
if it could speak
what order would it give
if asked to rule
would it wave back
if I said hi
what shall I do today
how about writing a mild letter
or—come to think of it— a wild letter
timing of course makes all the
difference
to release as the paper folds
open: sunsets and lakes
slowly lapping
the thunder of a
waterfall
the moment when you
gingerly wonder
whether you should finally
lower yourself, stretch out
in the grass thinking—oh
why don’t I do this more often
falling upward into the night sky
thoughts now wordless
sailing down a mountain
on skis faster than you can
control suddenly singing
and not even drunk
of course a faint fog of shame
but you sing anyway
who would dare to do that
in a letter
who would dare to write
like that
Martine van Bijlert is a poet, novelist and non-fiction writer who grew up in Iran, lives in the Netherlands and in between worked as an aid worker, researcher and diplomat, mostly in Afghanistan—a country she still closely follows from afar. Her poetry has recently appeared in kerning, Otis Nebula, Hole in the Head Review, Olney Magazine, Pangyrus Lit Mag, Consequence Forum, Tiny Spoon, NonBinary Review, Oyster River Pages and other places.