Sample Poems by Brian Dickson

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The Last Waiting Room News

We circled around her
while she sat
on the examination table.

The lavender, promenade hat
tilted on her head. It was perfect,
that tilt. With a brush of it

we were in Seurat's Sunday Afternoon
as we stared at the floor, the door knob
a fixed point on a waiting-room lake.

Once the doctor entered, our parasols
went up, his words dripping puddles
at our feet.

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Once I had Perfected Past

I had been dreaming
when your wintered self slumped
through the sliding door.

The live-oak leaves over the pool light
were half- seen faces soaking
the art of breathing.

Segments of breaths clung
to your swimsuit with the lure
to name the familiar, become.

---

Any Doll

Bed sores on your back.

You peeing
after laughing
so much.

*

Your lost flesh at a rut
in the grooves of the garden. Go, go
drifted, sojourned in the sunflowers stretched
over the fence.

*

In your hands, any doll
from your past would do. You straightened
its back again and again, its sag
a sadness tucked at the foot of the bed.