Thursday, January 27, 2011

Dig

I kept fire wrapped in folded paper
Inside a little brown envelope
Closed with a string clasp
Hidden in my skirts.

When I got a fever
It escaped
And I went red
Then yellow
Then black
From west to east across my skin
Like prairie in love with the lightning.

What's the matter?
Why don't you come to me anymore?
I can write more poems,
Hang the verses from my bones,
And you can find how I used to feel--
But you'll have to sully your
Sweet
White
Hands
Sifting with your fingers through my ashes.

_________

for Thursday Think Tank #33

photo by Metin Demiralay

30 comments:

Jannie Funster said...

This spirit wishes to tell you you're an awesome poet. Wait! I already told you that 100 times. So let me add that this poem is awesomely awesome, Michigan Woman.

xoxo

Old Ollie said...

Great piece - it flows so well...lyrical.

Tanith said...

I think I am becoming a little too predictable early on in my blogging endeavor but oh well. Fireblossom I am in love with you and your middle stanza.

"When I got a fever
It escaped
And I went red
Then yellow
Then black
From west to east across my skin
Like prairie in love with the lightning."

Love it!! The whole poem was awesome. I enjoyed yet another of what you wrote. I am signing this as Miss Envious.

Mama Zen said...

I like that slap you in the face ending.

Jinksy said...

Fire/fingers/burnt? Old story, new words...

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Wonderful writing! "like a prairie in love with the lightning"....and "hang the verses from my bones"......Inspired.

flaubert said...

I particularly like "hang the verses
from my bones" Excellent.
Pamela

Sherry Irvine said...

You have such a wonderful way with words....very much enjoyed your tale. xo

Friko said...

My first visit; I am truly impressed.

hedgewitch said...

Why am I flashing on Poe--something about an envelope hidden in your skirts, and fever, and the color red..but then he's left way behind when the prairie falls in love with the lightning...another look through you eyes at an amazing and unknowable world....
the photo also freaked me out a bit--at first thought it was some Dali-esque cobra-giraffe with a woman's hair in it's mouth...maybe *I* have the fever.

Always Write said...

Oooo I loved you name so I came to see who your were.

What a treat :)

hang the verses from my bones!!!

what an appeal.

GS

La Belette Rouge said...

No risk, no reward. RIght, lovely Tiger?;-) Got to be willing to get your hands dirty for love, writing and anything else worth having.
xo
your Weasel-friend

Kim Nelson said...

Love this. Made me think. Made me wonder. Made me read it again. Good writing. And BYW-- you freaking cracked me up with your recent comment on my post. I like your fiery self!

Carrie Burtt said...

I do not know how you do it, but you do....every time...you amaze me with your awesome talent Shay...i love this!!!!!!
:-)

lightverse said...

I really like the line, "Hang the verses..." Fiery - and cool!

Ella said...

Shay, this is hauntingly beautiful~
Love how you ended it, with a shock.
I love your painted prose

Rinkly Rimes said...

You managed to find just the right words.

Poets United said...

Thank you for sharing this wonderful piece.

"I can write more poems,
Hang the verses from my bones,"
Has to my favorite part. Your writing is always amazing Fire. Oh and I have made sure the Garden is back on the roll.

mac said...

Such bittersweet sentiments.

Don't worry about the hands,
callous never feels.

Shadow said...

in awe with how you described your fever...

Susannah said...

Shay, you are ****ing brilliant! ;-)

Loved every word.

moondustwriter said...

Feverish and painful

the fire and anguish are so lit up on the page Shay.

Don't ever stop lighting up the page dear.

Hugs ~ MDW

Brian Miller said...

where do i go to get my hands dirty...you should have never tried to hold the fire anyway...let it loose shay...

Daryl said...

Feels as if music should be set to it

TALON said...

Simply divine imagery, Shay.

Lynn said...

Just lovely.

Lisa said...

Holy shit, am glad I came here. So rich, really full and rich. I LOVE the word 'sully' - just feels decadent to read it. Thats why i read it a whole bunch of times. Made me feel greedy, so yes, this is my favorite bit:

"But you'll have to sully your
Sweet
White
Hands"


xx

Philip Thrift said...

Great piece, of this 'fire wrapped in folded paper'.

Felicitas said...

A gorgeous poem from it's folded paper beginning to ashy end!

Ami Mattison said...

This is awesome, Shay! I love the second stanza--the "prairie in love with the lightning." But of course, the ending is perfect. I can just see those "sweet white hands" getting sullied by black ash. Nice!