the room could be on fire behind me,
all unknown.
I have books, thick as starlings at sunset--
some have tiny bones made from love poems;
that is what I've been told.
I'm so beautiful, and so stupid.
I give coins to babies, formulae to retardates.
I stay by my window like a moondog,
offering the airy currents my kiss.
I wait for you by the window,
pretty and useless, a song in a language no one can sing.
I am sister to the vase, the ring removed, and the window I love,
because we are all open, and empty, like this.
_______
"some have tiny bones made from love poems"
ReplyDelete"I stay by my window like a moondog,
offering the airy currents my kiss"
catblossom, you do impress me. :)
Especially affecting: "I stay at my window like a moondog"....and "a song in a language no one can sing." Sure been there. Beautiful, Shay.
ReplyDeleteShay--There is a quality to this poem that I love, but I can't quite name...A simplicity? A childlike flavor? A vulnerability that is so alluring?
ReplyDeleteNot sure of what I'm thinking, but I know I love the poem.
I'm amazed at how much of the human condition you saw in the image of a window. You have a mind for poetry, Shay. No doubt about it.
ReplyDeleteUsually that which is open is seen as full of possibility--I like the way you flip that on its head, and the sense of pouring yourself out as well as passively waiting...lots of contradictions and contrasts here, every one making the poem more powerful. Sometimes one can enjoy being a vessel, but not when one is only holding void.
ReplyDelete"some have tiny bones made from love poems"
ReplyDeleteThat is simply exquisite.
I e-mailed you an extensive analysis of this one. ;) Too long for a comment, that's for sure.
ReplyDeleteLove the title. These are my favorite sections:
"The window is all there is"
"I have books, thick as starlings at sunset--
some have tiny bones made from love poems"
"pretty and useless, a song in a language no one can sing.
I am sister to the vase, the ring removed, and the window I love,
because we are all open, and empty, like this"
This starling is the most beautiful bird I've ever "seen"; I can't tear my eyes away:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Lamprotornis_hildebrandti_-Tanzania-8-2c.jpg
LOVE the poem! LOVE the photo! LOVE your labels! {your labels are better than most of my poems!}
ReplyDelete♥
finely woven sense of loss and melancholy and pathos.loved it.
ReplyDeleteThe last stanza just made me cry--beautifully done!
ReplyDeleteI like the way the first verse sets the whole poem up, and the last line too.
ReplyDeleteWaiting by the window...and we are all open and empty like this. This poem, to me, portrays loneliness well.
ReplyDeleteOh I loved reading this again......the same line, "a song in a language no one can sing" struck me again. And "books thick as starlings at sunset". Wow. How do you DO it????
ReplyDeleteShe must be a fool. Touching, this.
ReplyDeleteThis is my first, but not last visit here...I love the essence of this write.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the single words that speak volumes. Create images different for all of us, but many struck by the same words and phrases.
Peace,
Siggi in Downeast Maine
wow, that's a "i wish i had written this" type of poem. such beautiful language and imagery.
ReplyDeletefabulous piece this one! thank you so much. Starlings in the evening are a splendid thing indeed.
ReplyDelete