no one cares and it doesn't matter,
BUT
I was the spider bride of a textile tycoon and he
took one look and started laughing.
Out of my ears
crawled everything I'd heard and learned--
all Mom's good advice good for nothing, now.
I went straight to the mill
and worked everybody I could lay hands on;
they call me Saint Susan--
Bernard doesn't see those jacks in the palm of my hand.
When a woman loses her looks, anything goes.
Bernard recoils like I'm radioactive,
has a slut mistress tucked away in his office.
Meanwhile, I roam the factory floor like a suicide,
my fingertips solaced by
bolts of cat's claw crimson and
beautiful indigo.
There will be a revolution.
Bernard's gonna look good hanging from a roof girder,
his wrists knotted tight with my pretty scarf.
I'm an uggo but I kiss the blade that cuts the checks;
sugar and sorcery have made the shifts see me
not as I am, but as I could be and have become--
a red ball bouncing and a quick hand to catch it.
______
For "A Poem Of Our Own" with Magaly at Real Toads. I have incorporated the titles of four of my poems from our book "Three-Note Howl: The Wild Hunt" : "Noon", "The Spider Bride", "Advice", and "Beautiful Indigo."
Top image by cellmon, deviantart. Bottom image, creator unknown.
After hearing it last night, I woke up with my head full of "The Minstrel In The Gallery" by Jethro Tull. I had it in my head all the while I was composing this. Lyrics HERE.
Such a terrifying haunting presence pervades the story. This leaves me with the taste of copper in my mouth.
ReplyDeleteYou took the challenge and turned it on its ear with this incredible story.
Such a sad story and fierce. I can say I had moments like this when I, too, lost the bloom of youth, bummer :-)
ReplyDeleteAlas, age will always overcome our bodies and thoughts. Well written, and warm greetings!
ReplyDeleteDAMN! You place weighted words in fabulously satisfying constructions that move like boulders on a Calder mobile....or like the secret doors of a pyramid opening, closing, revealing amazing treasures of comprehension of the real stuff of what our existence here IS. Pain hurts, but I'm enjoying the 'eggs' of your frequent posting these dayz! You GO my dear Sister
ReplyDeleteThis hit me so hard you can't believe... we had a friend over last evening trying to give solace to a friend whose husband had told of ends... though I doubt it would ever come to revenge...
ReplyDeleteSometimes living well is the best revenge. Loved your tale, and the darkness of it.
Too many killer lines here to count, especially in the second and third stanzas(not to mention the close) but what I really like is the combination of lyric beauty with vicious intellect, the contrast between inside the bride and the radioactive outside--and the jack metaphor--yeesh, woman--you just keep raising that bar, don't you, till we all need oxygen masks.
ReplyDeletePS Loved the pics and a treat to read the Tull lyrics--much more complex, cutting and satirical than I remembered.
I almost said "terrifying and stunning" (well, I guess I just did), but it's more of a vicious and stunning piece. Sometimes, we need bite and rip a chunk of life's flesh in order to survive. And this lady has been doing some serious ripping.
ReplyDeleteYour chosen pictures played this poem like a movie in my head, soundtrack and all...
Beautifully haunting..!
ReplyDeleteDeadly cool. Body count ^.
ReplyDeleteOh how we let foul words destroy our ego, but it appears when "enough" is reached there is retribution. Love this dark tale!
ReplyDeletePardon me while I just live in the gorgeous midst of this line for a little while:
ReplyDeleteMeanwhile, I roam the factory floor like a suicide,
my fingertips solaced by
bolts of cat's claw crimson and
beautiful indigo.
Too fabulous for words, and too many great lines to quote. A stunner. I love it.
ReplyDeletethis is dark, biting and revengeful; with your titles well worked in
ReplyDeletemuch love...
This feels like a fresh take on the Japanese horror stories filled with angry female ghosts - which is to say I freaking love it! The slashes of imagery are crazy good. I especially love the contrast in the line "spider bride of a textile tycoon". Hell, that line sets it all up so nicely!
ReplyDeletePoe, if he could, he would be standing up, from his grave, and saluting your macabre poem. As the surrounding Ravens, caw, "Never more", in ovation, to this poem.
ReplyDeleteThere's a bite of fierce revenge in this that's rather tasty ;-)
ReplyDeleteChilling.
ReplyDeleteShay, did you use uggo as a coded billit-doux to moi? La la excellent, Mosk #elFeo
ReplyDelete