Sunday, February 23, 2014

Us

In the path of a hurricane
is no place for such as I.
My two cat companions, who walk with me at either side,
dislike getting wet, unless it is with blood.

My lionesses might put off another lover,
but when you feel wild-coarse fragrant fur at the bedside, moving,
you dangle your hand and smile, half-asleep, unperturbed.
I love your heart, which hides in the high grass of your body.

The hurricane has all the Weather Channel reporters in nerdgasm,
spinning counter-clockwise and yapping
as if they themselves were noteworthy storms
auditioning for the indifferent sky.

You know me, I don't give a shit for the usual women--
but you...today you have worn your oldest, softest, queerest red flannel shirt,
and black boots the devil might covet, but can't rock the same.
You are flame and smoke, but it is me who is consumed.

It has been a bad season for me, sweetheart.
My helmet with its feathers and nose guard has a crack in it;
I will use it for a planter to grow geraniums come springtime.
See? I kid myself that I will be here, then, in your arms still.

My cats have gone, they have an instinct about disaster.
Why do I feel awkward, naked in front of you this way?
You have seen my skin, touched it and possessed it, many times;
but this is a deeper baring. 

The hurricane is coming, the water is a strange gray-blue;
its restless brooding is noisy and ominous.
I will wear my silver wrist cuffs and all my rings,
burning sage and balsam to keep my hennaed feet close to earth.

I hate this, this goneward flow of all my art and cunning;
the hurricane is coming and I can't do a thing to stop it--
when I was strong enough to crack the necks of jackals, I loved you.
Now, I wince as I lower myself into the bath, but I love you still the same.

Don't forget me, baby.
Don't forget the girl with the cats, and the way with words.
And you? My Love, you were raised in the teeth of the storm,
and you pace the beach, singing to it inside your head,

fearless, familiar,
with your perfect up-yours smile,
Indian hair twisting behind you in the wind,
ready as any woman can be.
_______

for Margaret's Play It Again, Toads #2. Because I am shameless, I have written for my own Lights, Camera, Love challenge.

  

17 comments:

TexWisGirl said...

it is beautiful and tumultuous.

loved the 'nerdgasm' word!

Margaret said...

" black boots the devil might covet, but can't rock the same."

Somehow, if anyone can survive the coming hurricane, they can. I like the quiet repetition of the warning, the cats taking off, the image of her love pacing the beach with her Indian hair whipping about.

The anticipation, the waiting, the unknown hangs on delicately here - truly they eye of the storm, it seems.

Björn said...

The tension of a coming storm.. so well portrayed.. I really love how you balanced a thin line between real waiting for a storm and a metaphor.. and nerdgasm ;-) ha... that fit me perfectly..

Kerry O'Connor said...

I love your heart, which hides in the high grass of your body.

That's the line that got me wishing I had written it first. This is as sumptuous as love poetry should be, straight from the vaults of your unconditionally-loving heart.

hedgewitch said...

Ah, Shay--once again you blow me away--the hurricane is within, the big cats too, chafing at the confinement, but still the wind blows and the hunted die..I had started to quote the line Kerry has mentioned above, but since she has already noticed its brilliance I will put down the other that riveted me:
'...I hate this, this goneward flow of all my art and cunning;'
That so totally nails the sense of what the storm can give and what it destroys...just one of your best ever, and nothing is better than that.

Sioux said...

.

"I hate this, this goneward flow of all my art and cunning;
the hurricane is coming and I can't do a thing to stop it--
when I was strong enough to crack the necks of jackals, I loved you.
Now, I wince as I lower myself into the bath, but I love you still the same."

This stanza makes me ache.

Sam Edge Author said...

A hurricane of images and feelings I have to go dry off.

Isadora Gruye said...

Go figure Kerry and Hedgey to get my favorite lines before me, but congrats on some tremendous heights in this piece. My reading of two lovers, one whom will not outlast the storm and the other whom will weather it just fine, left me speechless at the internal scope of this one. I must say, it we take the eighth stanza on it's own:

I hate this, this goneward flow of all my art and cunning;
the hurricane is coming and I can't do a thing to stop it--
when I was strong enough to crack the necks of jackals, I loved you.
Now, I wince as I lower myself into the bath, but I love you still the same.

that's a damn fine poem in itself, but you have written others of equal caliber to go around it. And on a Sunday no less. Color me impressed (as always).

One note, I do believe there to be a typo in the first line: In the path of a the hurricane.... "of a the"....probably "of the" hurricane or "of a hurricane." but not both? Hope you don't mind the call out here. In my last posting, I had used envelop instead of envelope and no one told me in the comments....leading me to think perhaps no one had actually read the poem, why else would they let that just sit there? Viva la

Sherry Blue Sky said...

This is a big write, even for you, kiddo, "a deeper baring" for certain.
I enjoyed the flapping meteorologists......but got drawn deeper into the love and pain as I read......I love "My Love, you were raised in the teeth of the storm,
and you pace the beach, singing to it inside your head," so much!

Susan said...

"I hate this, this goneward flow of all my art and cunning;
the hurricane is coming and I can't do a thing to stop it--"

Being powerless and voiceless is belied here, even thought the cats are gone and this fighting women, another hurricane stands alone.

Kathryn said...

I love the building tension in this piece and the nerdgasm.

HermanTurnip said...

Ah, how we dream about the past and envision the future. Beautifully done!

grapeling said...

you only know the big game, Shay, the tigers and the sky ~

Ella said...

Love the hurricane, but you knew I would! Yes, weather is the perfect pairing with a wretched heart~ I too love how you built the tension-like a storm!

Mama Zen said...

"I love your heart, which hides in the high grass of your body."

Wow.

Helen said...

..... and a lovely write it is.

Daryl said...

another that calls out for re-reading ...