Introducing a new series of poems by Julian Matthews. Julian is a writer and Pushcart-nominated poet published in The American Journal of Poetry, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, Borderless Journal, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Dream Catcher Magazine, Live Encounters Magazine, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and The New Verse News, among others. He is a mixed-race minority from Malaysia and lived in Ipoh for seven years. Currently based in Petaling Jaya, he is a media trainer and consultant for senior management of multinationals on Effective Media Relations, Social Media and Crisis Communications. He was formerly a journalist with The Star and Nikkei Business Publications Inc
Link: https://linktr.ee/julianmatthews
By Julian Matthews
It’s been a while since you used me
You relied on me whenever you got lost,
needed directions, were scrambling, or late
Now I sit in this cold cavern,
this gloveless glove compartment
loveless, as the half-used box of 3-ply masks
Your map of old that you abandoned
for the mobile apps of new
I even missed the way you got so mad
Trying to fold me back, this way and that,
and never got it right
I have all the creases to show for it,
it was more a trauma for you
than a trauma for me
I never once complained
I knew where to draw the line
It didn’t matter how you faulted me,
only that I was useful, a 2D representation of your 3D world,
one dimension less but many more colorful facets:
solid lines, curved contours
and straight, up and up grids
My borders and boundaries
clearly demarcated
I never talked back, never told you, “You Have Arrived”
when you hadn’t, or castigated you to take U-turns
you didn’t want to, or said “Recalculating”
in such a condescending way
I never tracked your comings and goings
It was always just between you and me
I was discreet and private that way
What lies on the map, stays on the map
The last time you pulled me out
was when you lost internet connection
and your battery was weak
You pulled over and found me
and I was so thrilled to be touched again,
fondled by your warm hands like an old friend
You read me easily, just like remembering
to ride a bicycle, or tie a shoelace
And I got you to your destination on time
I was happy to be of service, finally
You didn’t fold me right, though,
again, but I didn’t mind–
To think you were so good
at origami once
Kids are natural folders, adults can’t seem to shape
the unfolding of their lives very well
It’s an animal they wrestle with every day
of their crumpled, creased lives,
never being able to tell the mountain
from the valley folds
Forgetting that no matter where you go,
wherever you end up, or even when you think
you really have arrived, you will always
still need a guide, a chart, something tangible,
someone you can hold on to
like a reliable map to point you
in the right direction
and show you
the way
First published in the online literary journal Chewers by Masticadores, USA.
