Poet Fan - Poem by Alistair Graham
The oscillating fan stands tall and still
like a mechanical sunflower,
worshiping the ground I walk on.
her stem-stand feet, her slender frame,
covered with a blanket of dust;
the skin of me.
her one good eye, weeps without ceasing
all the day long, if I fail to touch her;
push her buttons.
when I push one, or two, she flies into frenzy
in floating and flailing three leaf petal,
flinging her feelings at my face.
“mind you, ” I say to her,
“it’s about time you took me
less serious; this is a grave situation,
you are in your place
in the corner of the room,
between coat rack and filing cabinet,
you are a fragile little flower
who I don’t want to see
I push her
nought button, disconnect her
from the powers that be.
I wait for her to calm, relax
her breathing, I slip my arm
around her waist
walk her to my desk, to me
to witness how she
settles, like dust to dust.
funny thing, she
asked for my autograph
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