Byron Headrick

Rookie - 0 Points (April 16 1972 / Scotsboro, Alabama)

The Leaving Of April - Poem by Byron Headrick

Young May
Two in the morning
Pieces breaking through the trees like memories
Cool breeze runs her fingers through my hair
Crickets sing drinking songs
Maybe we just think they do
As we pass the bottle
Four of us total
Talking about sex
And love
Unable to separate the two
Jeff sets straddling a rail like a cowboy
Bottle in his rope hand

“Women are easily understood, the only difference is they bleed.”

I catch overtures standing
Against the trailer (small but neat for a bachelor’s)
I am alone
My mind writes poetry and
Contemplates how it all
Seems hanging on
The leaving of April

“And they have codes for it.
For Michelle it’s ‘flowers’
For April it’s ‘deep down south’
They never tell, but after two months you’ll be sure to know.”

“Don’t ever get in a closed place with a woman on PMS.
You might as well shoot her.
God’ll forgive yea. Afterall he’s a man. He’d understand.”

“They love differently…
We are logical. We don’t feel except maybe
Too hard
Too much.”

“Women’ll test you. Then respect you
Break your fucking heart.”

I am a red-eyed poet
Editing my soul with
Still, the leaving of April
Seems superimposed
Upon the smooth moon above
Barred by trees
As the wind blows
Just enough
To twist the light and bend my mind
Allow me to be now and then
Two places at the same time.

Our first night together grew
In texture
And solidity
Inside my libido
Cauterized her name with
Tainted lips
Or maybe
Just double meanings.

Jeff helps Chris to bed
Falls on top of planted flowers and
Each other
Jason laughs
Then blows chunks of strawberry pie
On my bare feet
The moon full white rises
Watching three drunks
And a poet stoned sick
On thoughts and words
Pain is always there
We only get use to it
We all live in it
Jason dry heaves
As I think of the leaving of April

“I missed you.” Silence

“Please don’t say
That you haven’t dated anyone lately
Because of me.”

“I can’t tell him
I don’t love him
That would hurt
I just want to let things die

“I’ve got friends visiting from deep down south.”

A boy-man runs naked crying out loud the name of a woman he never knew so much to him sober
Chris will wander back
Jason sleeps
Jeff hangs his face out the front door
I grasp everything –
How everyone wants to be happy
How we are all grasping for it
How Hell is paved with good intentions
How the moon is a beautiful mistress
How good, good friends are
How whisky burns out truth
There is no one meaning
But hundreds of tiny little
Meanings to life
I see them all
I want to write them down
I am too tired
I sleep.

Jason sleeps
Chris’s head hurts
Jeff still hangs out the door
I try to write
But its like
Trying to tell someone what the exact time is
To the second
When the hands keep moving
The only things that I still
Remember through all the mental haze
Is that GODDAMN phrase
The leaving of April.

Comments about The Leaving Of April by Byron Headrick

  • (11/20/2005 10:14:00 AM)

    I forgot to breathe... (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, November 6, 2005

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