do it just as the sun is going down,
or not at all.
I've always needed someone to kick the chocks back in under my wheels,
and to reach up and stop the propeller.
Otherwise, the sky calls me with its own backassward gravity;
My hair stands straight up,
all the blood rushes to my head,
and the next time you see me, there I am, crossing in front of the moon.
If you're going to fall for me,
feel me up, fill my ear with all the things you imagine that I am,
wait until the last leaf falls.
Then, up to our haunches in October snow,
I will kiss you the same way I kissed the woman I really loved;
the one who wore red flannel, raised ravens, and was nothing like you.
If you're going to fall for me,
whoever you are, do it on Halloween.
Brain me with a shovel,
Or else I'll be running down the center of the airstrip at dawn,
a gas can in one hand, passport in the other,
taking off in Le Corbeau, my arms in the air,
Singing "Mon amour est folle comme la lune,"
and as red --oh! as soft-- as my hair.
______
For Karin's "Falling Into Lines" mini-challenge at Real Toads.
"Le Courbeau" = The Raven
"Mon amour est folle comme la lune" = "My love is as crazy as the moon"
Confidential to Buddha Moskowitz: Is this more like it? *grin*
Laura Nyro!
ReplyDeleteYou are a basket of good, if strange, things!
ALOHA
ComfortSpiral
(\__/)
(='.'=)
(")_(")
I love Stanzas 4, 5, and 6. "Brain me with a shovel" is a killer line. Hee hee. ;)
ReplyDeleteAn Autumn sunset is a time for passion. Stanza five intrigues me - a desperation to it. The twist on the word fall is really cool. You always surprise me.
ReplyDeleteThe feeling of flight is luxuriantly present here, and almost cancels for me the feeling of fall and its unfortunate consequences. I love the backasswards gravity, the one who raised ravens, and the french(of course) Also the way the wistful tone can turn on a dime and cut to the bone. An instant favorite, Shay.
ReplyDeleteHey Shay--agree with Joy's comment--an instant favorite--such a sweet poem and so poignant--the close especially--always this need to recreate the last love and probably the best way to do it is by being fully loved, fallen for--as you capture here so cleverly and with such great details--I am not sure "my love" is as crazy as the moon or love itself. The closing lines are just terrific--as is the whole thing, thanks for participating in the prompt and thanks for the poem. k.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous! (I always love songs about people who won't be caught and tamed.)
ReplyDeleteShay--Only you could write a poem about fall that's this delicious...
ReplyDeleteThere is a reason why falls are lethal... Oh yes there's a risk worth taking, a glorious read,
ReplyDeleteAutumn stains the world with orange...If there is to be a fall, may it be one of passion. Love it!
ReplyDeleteI love the mental images this conjures, especiall the final stanza, though I imagined you (er, the narrator) hollering something real loud. Stanzas 5 and 6 are so good, and so is the, "backassward gravity" and all your clever wordplay.
ReplyDeleteThat steampunk chick has a lot of spunk, and the tone of your poem suits her to a tee.
ReplyDeleteMy favourite image of her is with gas can in hand running off down the airstrip at dawn. fabulous!
Let's just get real here. How many people can work "brain me with a shovel" into a poem at all, much less one this delicious?
ReplyDeleteOh this delighted me. Love the image of her running down the strip, arms raised. This was a wonderful read. And yes, what Mama Zen said.
ReplyDeleteNow, *that's* more like it! Love you any which way you are :) -la la el Mosk
ReplyDeleteThe imagery is this is fantastic!
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