Here, where leaden birds have broken all the windows.
Here, where the wind is a wild thing gotten indoors, thrashing.
Here, where waiting is more like living than anything I did before.
Come to this place, Love.
I promise, your kiss does not shock me into seizing insensibility as it did the first time.
Darling,
I savor it.
I beg for it,
Prideless.
I am sick for it as others are for white powder, sharp edges, or the dark cards.
I have waited all night.
I waver, I do not eat anymore.
I wear your clothes, surrounding myself with their emptiness,
Willing them to consume me.
Come.
Here, where reason has slipped away.
Kiss me.
Pull me down into your root-home.
I do not mind your throat with its silenced pulse;
But my own, quick and ceaseless,
Drives me without mercy to insanity's bitterest edge.
_____
for A Word With Laurie at Real Toads. ("ethereal")
wow...someone has it bad...you know...where the wind had blown in doors...sounds like quite the tornado or amor
ReplyDeleteA wonderful poem for the word ethereal.
ReplyDeleteWhen does longing become madness? Fine line, and a fine poem--shot through with bolts of black and blinding silver. Last lines of the second stanza almost physical in intensity, the consuming clothes and the root-home part of a careering progression of insanely sweet language running straight off reason's cliff. In a good way. Just...yeesh.
ReplyDeleteVery ethereal, mysterious in tone and with a sensual intensity, Shay. I can feel your longing... it is inviting and convincing... lovely. Thanks so much for taking part!
ReplyDelete"Here, where waiting is more like living than anything I did before...." a freaking wonderful poem, kiddo, with teeth.
ReplyDeleteI've been there in that third stanza! I love the near crazed longing in this!
ReplyDeleteWell, this was certainly worth the wait of several days, for a Fireblossom poem.
ReplyDeleteI read it as a song of mourning, rather than madness. The terror of being alone, and never feeling the touch of one who has been joined to you in flesh: the emptiness of clothes is left behind after death, and the one left alive longs to join the lover in the grave, if only to be near her one last time.
It's epic, Shay.
as beautiful and touching as ever. your words in themselves are ethereal!
ReplyDeleteYeah, I've had it that bad a time or two...
ReplyDeleteI'm having a great weekend (even while spending it at work). Hope you are too! Thanks for stopping by yesterday, Shay; always good to see you :)
I checked and yes OED has been updated and this poem now appears next to the word Ethereal
ReplyDeleteAwesome, Shay. I thought of love, loss, sorrow, vampires and the pain of being alive. You've blown me away yet again with your word mastery. xo
ReplyDeleteNow in my latter years, the wild wind thrashes about, wantonly.
ReplyDeleteI wake, I walk about on the edge from day to day.
I'm glad I'm not the only one
in this way.
Once again, thanks for a wonderful piece and for allowing me not to feel that I am, in this, alone
sorry, Shay ~ i can't read this until i've finished writing mine, so i'll be back....
ReplyDeleteat least then the depression will kick in AFTER i've hit "publish" ~ my recycle bin's already overflowing with poems that i had to discard after reading one of yours. {sigh} {crawling off to curl up in a corner and suck my thumb for awhile....}
This is like a more damaged version of that "Come live with me and be my love" poem...
ReplyDeleteStrong stuff, this.
Shay you are writing my life again. My girlfriend and I were discussing this on our drive back from the city yesterday. How is it that some people effect us so completely, muddling our thoughts, taking our appetite. Often it's an instantaneous chemical thing that makes no real sense. You describe it so perfectly.
ReplyDeleteAs empty as that longing can be and with crushing weight......I would be half the man had I not experienced it with my own heart and lust. I love this poem, it has the weight of the world woven into the fiber, but with a sliver of hope that waxes and wanes with the days temperature. Great work.
ReplyDeleteShay, I love your take on the word and the world you drew me into, oh so skilfully. This in particular defines 'ethereal' for me:
ReplyDeleteHere, where waiting is more like living than anything I did before.
...though I didn't know it before I read your poem. :)
The combination of photo and words is hypnotic, Shay.
ReplyDeleteI understand this mourning, you too drew me into this world
ReplyDeleteYour words inspire another look
So powerful
Well done
yes, we do drive ourselves nuts more than anyone else
ReplyDeleteIncredible.
ReplyDelete