Sunday, June 30, 2013

Her(e) it is

Here it is.
The swing-footed pumpkin-faced fool of a mailman brought it
and laid it right in my dainty little hand.

Why, thank you, sir.
Now, put it out;
a girl can't live in a cloud of smoke,
and I never learned to choke gracefully.
Be a man,
throw yourself on it for me.
It's right there, under your nose where I slammed it
in one of my sudden fits of pique.
Bleed it to death.
Drown it.
Dress it red, and then, lured by my favorite color,
I might be tempted into having a look,
or even taking it in.

Why does everything I love, do this?
Tell me, mailman. 
Stop with the stamps and spit out some Golden Wisdom.
Look in your bag--
you may have been staggering all afternoon under the weight of something Important.
A lady doesn't like to be kept waiting.
Oh, leave it then, you ashy anthill. What good are you?
Never mind;
I'll handle this myself.

Oh look, someone sent my heart back to me,
postage due and damaged.
I have been feeling hollow, like a human celery stick sat up and rotting 
in a wrought iron chair
with a fork in its forehead,
nattering on about bullshit with the girls at the salon.

Now, I can do what I want.
I can run the place and scribble poems out of my skin with a jacknife,
the very epitome and pinnacle of suburban womanhood.
My heart restored, 
I can beat myself from within, minute by minute,
a clock-girl swaying with the systolic and diastolic of my pretty balancing act.

I would thank that mailman, but I can't wake him up,
and anyway, now the crows have been at him
and he can't see my Evolvedness or my perfect tits, so what good is he?
Besides, at this point in my life,
I only want women.
Now, I am the one billowing thick dark plumes,
going up from inside my own skin,
singing gorgeously, like Tarja Turunen or an emergency alarm.

I want what I have always wanted--
to please some Dark Queen with the poems from my tongue,
and then to crawl inside her and hum,
rocking, a second soul,
her name and my name twined like a caduceus,
and finally to be cured into the bend of her arms,
favored and desired,
not Venus On The Trash Can
ranting and waiting for delivery into something better than the mail.
_________

picture: Johanna Herrstedt

for Real Toads mini-challenge


17 comments:

manicddaily said...

You manage such a wonderful combination of humor and despair - and the imagery is so original and, okay, wacky, but vivid enough that we can easily picture what you are talking about the celery,the jackknifed poems, and the wonderful curing cadeucis at the end. Terrific. This is Karin of Manicddaily. I am on a mobile device and I think it will make me use an old google ID. k.

Sioux said...

"and then to crawl insider her and hum, rocking" is so moving and sweet.

I especially love the last stanza, Shay.

(Don't you ever slow down? ;)

grapeling said...

black, humor, gall, wry, puckish, guffaw, phenomenal. ~ M

Mama Zen said...

Holy hell, this is amazing!

"a clock-girl swaying with the systolic and diastolic of my pretty balancing act"

I may never write again.

hedgewitch said...

This is such quintessential Fireblossom stuff, that I don't know what to say that I haven't already said often and often, about how good it is--My favorite lines are the bitch-slap ones, of course, but there's a darkness in the humor that knows itself too well, that knows the end of the movie seen a thousand times but still has a totally irrational hope things will be different on the thousandth and one viewing. The blend of tenderness and cynicism is especially effective, and the close is perfect.

Kerry O'Connor said...

I have mentioned before what an incredible way you have with similes, and I must point out this one:

I have been feeling hollow, like a human celery stick sat up and rotting
in a wrought iron chair
with a fork in its forehead...

The graphic visuals astound the reader, and the poetic truth of the comparison makes the image a lasting one.

Fabulous concept of retrieving one's heart from a fallible lover and learning to love its beating back in the bosom where it belongs.

Ileana said...

Oh, THIS is the attitude and wittiness I've been missing...ashy anthills and all.

Btw, I see that Angeline Jolie (who I believe does nothing for you but no matter) will be starring in Maleficent next Spring. I think you'll like her in that one.

L. Edgar Otto said...

Fireblossom

Your poems are so excellent- but I wondered what you looked like and I have no clue- well, you cant be 35 by any view (or maybe that my dirty old man brain twisting in the curving view and vital fire of some imagined fireplace lost in the darksome woods at night- your lantern in the window I pass by somehow helps light my way.

TALON said...

The twist of dark with the light...your specialty, Shay. A heart belongs to its owner...

Hannah said...

Ummm yes...this is excellent...I Love the part about the crows a lot!! Excellent and uniquely you all the way! @ your comment...I'm still working on it, too...somedays are better than others.

Lolamouse said...

Witty and wonderful and totally you! I love that 5th stanza!

HermanTurnip said...

So much anger barely contained by the thin lines in the poem. It's like you captured anger in a jar and are holding it up to the light. Fantastic!

Oh, and I had to Google the world "caduceus". Heh...

Susan said...

Wow!
Where to begin?
I swallowed this poem whole, and now I am listening to your music and going back for more.

Marcoantonio Arellano said...

I'm in 'shock and awe' with your creative brain. All your simile's and pictorial use of words take a reader for a ride hoping it never ends.

Gracias mi amiga for such a treat

Susie Clevenger said...

You take on each challenge and I come here to read and be amazed. "Now, I am the one billowing thick dark plumes, going up from inside my own skin" I love that..coming to complete freedom to be who you are without apology.

Sara said...

What attitude, girlfriend!!! But why pick on the poor postman?

I loved the part about the heart being returned with "postage due and damaged." Well said.

Hope all is well with you and it's fun to read your poetry -- just the right amount of dark humor and sexy dreams:~)

Margaret said...

postage due and damaged...

You ran with the theme "greet yourself" in a very clever way... this challenge was too much for me on what little time I am able to carve out during the summertime.

the "dress it in red" lines made me chuckle. How do you just keep creating story lines? Maybe that should be something you do for a prompt... give us some insight how to stretch our (my) brain... :)