Monday, November 11, 2013

trifle

There is a poem I wrote for you,
a trifle scratched with a fingernail file into some stranger's parquet floor.

There was an accident--
I stumbled inside the nearest house,
leaving smears of blood like sloppy lipstick 
on the glass panes of the study door.

Foolishly, I tried to kiss the air,
though it didn't have one molecule of your scent in it.
I fell, then crawled up into a chair, feeling sick and dizzy.

The alarms in the house were made of clarinets.
The police who came wore blue serge
and knew all the standards.

I told them I was delivering a donor poem,
so if they come up your walk with their little ice chest,
receive them. Remember your southern manners.

Eventually, the blood will wash out
and I will stay in my grave like a bookmark.
Until then, know that I was thinking of you
all the way up until the end.
_______

 

 

13 comments:

hedgewitch said...

There is a dark whimsy to this that really curdles my blood at the same time that it charms me. There is a moment like that in everyone's life, perhaps, but how hard most of us would find it to describe it so terrifyingly well. I won't quote, but your last two stanzas in particular are works of dark,delicious art. *begins burning all writing materials*

HermanTurnip said...

Have I told you recently how much I dig your style? Oddly dark works like this brings a smile to my face. Perhaps it's the closet goth in me that digs such things? Ya see, I was raised by a pack of wild goths. They fed me snake bites, clove cigarettes, and fitted me for my first pair of boots at the age of two. Ahhh, good times. Good times...

TexWisGirl said...

you are wicked with the visuals.

myheartslovesongs.com said...

you're just plain wicked...

{why can't you fucking stop writing and let the rest of us have at least a little self-esteem?}

great song choice!

Grandmother (Mary) said...

Two striking, utterly unique images among many- a donor poem in a little ice chest and staying in a grave like a bookmark. *Sighs in admiration*

G-Man said...

Loved your poem...
Filled with the longing and emptiness that is Sooo YOU!
I remember this song as well.
He sounded just like Slim Whitman!
You Rock Lady Shay!!

Mama Zen said...

This is just the coolest concept ever. What Dani said!

grapeling said...

can I just give you a poetry badge that you can flash? cuz you're the boss.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Yes, you are the boss! Unquestioningly. "I will stay in my grave like a bookmark." Argh. (Gnashing of teeth-those I have left-rending of garments.)

Kathryn said...

Wow, incredible.

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Yoiks!

"Eventually, the blood will wash out
and I will stay in my grave like a bookmark."

Inspired and wired.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Second only to your love poetry is your work on love's loss. Your imagery comes the closest to describing the gut-wrenching pain of it than most other poets I've read.

Sioux's Page said...

This poem is "crimsy"--part creepy and part whimsy.

And the song you chose to go along with it was perfect. A tad on the "creepy" side as well, if I just close my eyes and listen...