I close my eyes and imagine a flowered urn.
I imagine holding you, broken-necked
dying. I will tell you not to be afraid.
I will tell you to breathe slowly.
You are sticky with blood, your tongue
swelling, but I will not turn away.
I will press my face to yours, tell you
there is nowhere else for me to go but with you.
I want to sleep. I want to eat dead stars.
I will say your name like an animal. I will kiss you.
I will tell you that mine is a melting,
unmerciful love, that there is no such thing
as disregard. You will taste like iron, like body,
like earth. Your hair, matted, thick with blood
will smell like you, like sprouting trees.
But there is only so long I can watch
until I will start to shake, until I will want
to be washed away. I am unwilling
to let you become a trick of light, one
afternoon, a heavy body. I will curl up
beside you, will the gunman to return.
I will kiss his face to hear his phrases,
to feel his dirty hands drain me, to set the barn
on fire and let me burn away beside you.
I will have the stillest kind of sadness.
But if he never comes, I will not give up.
We will be on our backs, left in the ground.
If I can drag you, I will.
The lake is deep enough,
the fence charged.
.
8 comments:
What. BRB. Thank God for another poem, I'll need some time to think about this one.
it's supposed to have a play with spacing, but the spacing in the post is really wonk. I may just email you the original version or post a jpg or something here so its visible.
I noticed the spacing. I'd love to see a better copy. I like this one.
It seems very much like a dream. I can imagine being in it and not wanting my sos to die. And then the many ways that could happen. Will the killer come back, will the building burn, will we fall off a cliff, car wreck? But because it is a dream all of those things run through the writers mind and happen in 'real' time as they are being thought of.
this is so beautiful. its very ephemeral in the beginning and becomes more concrete toward the end. personally, i would prefer the ephemerality to continue throughout the whole piece. the more concrete images do not let the mind wonder they way your amazing first half does.
pee pee read my mind!
i was thinking about how i felt through the first 3/4 of the piece. i liked being grounded in certain very real terms, then floating back up into something i couldn't know.
the end is so resolute. it re-frames the rest of the poem into something i didn't think it was?
Funny you would all comment on the dream-like quality. I suppose that's what I was going for because it's based on a very real and scary dream of a lover dying in my arms.
Thanks for the suggestions. I think I like the idea of continuing with the ephemeral throughout or at least coming back to it in the end. In class we call this leaping, leaping from the real to the unreal and I always struggle with whether I come back to earth or leave the reader out there hanging in "dead stars"
I love how the dreaminess of the first part of the poem is interrupted by the physicality of the second. The love transforms from some faint, shrouded ideal into the raw, heavy body laying next to you.
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