poem – soon

i feel it
a beautiful wreckage of thoughts,
twisted. aligned however they
want- a storm, it’s always been
like this. ‘something’s going to happen
and it’s going to be soon.’ i remember
saying to her. and it did. and it was soon.
and things changed, not for the good.
but this one, this one’s different.
this one’s going to last a long, long while,
and it’s going to change the boundaries
of permissions far beyond my simple sight.

-M. Taggart


I opened the door to our spare bedroom,
stood motionless, and began to close the door.
Oddly enough, I knew I was supposed to open
the door and walk to the far side of the room.
For what reason, I hadn’t a clue. But, I knew
I was needing to do this. So I did.
Absolutely nothing happened.
I left the room.
It wasn’t long ago that I had one room,
with four walls, and a sliding glass door leading to a deck
overlooking a mountain ridge in Western, MA.
Those four walls and I never got along very well.
I remember the view in Western, MA, like I’ll always
remember walking to the far side of the spare bedroom.
For some reason I was meant to do that.
I believe I’ll realize why
when my mind decides to let me.

-M. Taggart


Odd Walking Thoughts – Don’t keep

We walk into the shadow of death to pull one wounded child from its depths, to find another daft man standing in the corner. Leaves are shuffling outside my window. A man with a golden heart is gone. Another stands in a room looking. Don’t block me. I am here and at least I have my fingers. The man in the room standing, looking daft, asks for silence because silences never questions. Never says a damn word. The girl with the golden brow would have cared for a word. And the boy with the covers pulled tight would have cared for the same.
copyright 2017
-M. Taggart