Here is the place.
The perfect place
for us to abandon ourselves completely.
At last, we can do anything,
and blame a lunacy so compelling
that no one will tell us, lemon-faced, that we should have known better.
If I could see your eyes,
if your thick visor did not simply reflect my face back at me,
I would know that you agree.
If I bash my lips at your hidden ones in what must seem a frenzy of desire,
my only wish is simply to obliterate my returned image;
meteors have pocked this place similarly,
and perish spectacularly.
Darling, unscrew your cumbersome white gloves.
How foolish they seem in a world made entirely of dust!
Were you expecting more, somehow, my pet?
Did the distant sun or the blue earth render you wistful,
yearning for hotter or cooler worlds
peopled by beautiful deities and not just me,
fumbling like a spastic?
Let's resolve to surrender to what is, my lamb,
no matter how featureless and grim that may be.
We can undress each other and gasp for breath,
agreeing to pretend that it is because of excitement over each other
and that our bursting lungs and
exploding hearts
are due to love and not just tiresome symptoms of violent expiry.
In the end it will be all right.
If we squint, the gravity and gravitas that encumbers others
will release us as if we were as blameless as a baby's soap bubbles.
We will rise,
renewed,
seeming to wave to non-existent crowds of our lessers,
departing for our next empty rendezvous,
lighter than forgiven murderers unstrapped from the table, finding grace.
_______
for Izy's Out of Standard challenge
I knew you would find a dozen or two subtle moon allusions and ways to nail the lunar identity without even mentioning 'sky.' Beginning with the title, the lunacy, the craters and pockmarks reflected in the imperfect vision of each other's muffled, unidentifiable almost, forms--what else indeed is love but that struggle to get through the suit, even if it means breathing in a vacuum?--to the free-floating, the round baby bubbles, round as a full iridescent moon--just flawless.
ReplyDeleteI would tip my hat to you, Miss Fireblossom, but I need it to shade my scalp.
wow, shay caroline. wonderfully done. so many great phrases in this and so many sci-fi movie images come to mind.
ReplyDelete"Lighter than forgiven murderers." Much love.
ReplyDeleteIt's the sort of mischevious malevolence that you (and Izy, for that matter) do so well. It's fun, but I'm still watching my back.
ReplyDeleteDear Shay ... there is a man from my past, threatening to invade my future (which would be perfectly fine with me) ~~ he needs to read this!!!
ReplyDeleteSuch a perfect title for such a follow-through!
ReplyDelete"lighter than forgiven murderers unstrapped from the table"
ReplyDeleteThat was more than an entertaining line. I could actually feel a sense of relief as my mind processed these words. Very well done!
Transporting ~
ReplyDeleteFrom lunacy, hidden eyes, pocks, yearning, featureless, gasping for breath, released gravity, lighter...
ReplyDeleteAll so perfect, such awesome fun you had with this... and the end is lovely - finding grace.
I think we all need to go back to our drawing boards. ;(
Oh my. Too many great lines to quote. Especially the bursting lungs and exploding hearts bit, "not just tiresome symptoms of violent expiry.
ReplyDeleteNo one but you can write a poem like this. You have created your own genre. I wonder what would happen if Toads set us a prompt to write a poem in your style. Seriously, might that not be fun?
Oh, no, please tell Sherry we couldn't possibly mirror your style. You are you, and we are mere us, not mere-ors. (Ugh, bad pun, leaving it anyway.)
ReplyDeleteLove the way you did this poem, and "Tranquility Base" is so perfect. Did you know they named one of the rocks they found there "tranquillityite" with two Ls? Very strange. Along with pyroxferroite, and armalcolite, the latter after Armstrong.
K
Gorgeous, as always.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Kay. We are NOT all created equal. There is no freakin' way we could write "Shay-style."
ReplyDeleteNo way.
So many wonderful words here, but I really liked
ReplyDelete"If we squint, the gravity and gravitas that encumbers others
will release us as if we were as
blameless as a baby's soap bubbles."
No one does longing like you do, Shay-d-Lady
Sooo, for some reason when I read this poem, my brain is not allowing me to think of the narrator of anything over than some sort of moon monster who has fallen in love with an cosmonaut. You probably had two human characters in mind, but I like my version sooo much I cannot throw it away.
ReplyDeleteAnyhow, yes, this....this is awesome the pithy and playful all in balance here. I really enjoyed this line:
Darling, unscrew your cumbersome white gloves.
How foolish they seem in a world made entirely of dust!
Did the distant sun or the blue earth render you wistful,
yearning for hotter or cooler worlds
peopled by beautiful deities and not just me,
fumbling like a spastic?
Truly marvelous work, cooks! Thanks for raising the bar on yet another out of standard prompt!
The way you use aspects of the moon...reflection, what is hidden, meteors/pocked...is such a creative angle in response to the prompt. My favorite lines: "Darling, unscrew your cumbersome white gloves.
ReplyDeleteHow foolish they seem in a world made entirely of dust!"
This is most definitely 'out of standard' yet up to your standards! I just love all the myth vs. reality here. I think my favorite is S2:
ReplyDeleteIf I could see your eyes,
if your thick visor did not simply reflect my face back at me,
I would know that you agree.
If I bash my lips at your hidden ones in what must seem a frenzy of desire,
my only wish is simply to obliterate my returned image;
meteors have pocked this place similarly,
and perish spectacularly.
So many lines I just adore: "...blameless as a baby's soap bubbles..." and "lighter than forgiven murderers unstrapped from the table, finding grace," are just two of them!
ReplyDelete