Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Sunday, May 15, 2016

No More Of Jerry

At some point, there was no more of Jerry
and yet, I kept walking him around anyway
no matter how he billowed and sagged,
no matter the film-melt at his hands, his feet, his face.

I kept thinking, this is Jerry, MY Jerry,
and he will rally, he will laugh it off and start dancing
even though we would both know it hadn't been a joke;
love can be that way, can't it?--illogical, like improv, chancy.

Okay, I lied.
We had got to that point of inattention where things get missed,
or recast, or denied,
and so when I walked down the street with Jerry I wore no black,
but the night lent me its share
and I wrapped it over my shoulders
and knotted it in my hair.

Look, Jer, I'm 3 a.m.--
your girl full of stars, still circling, ever faithful.
There's no more of you, but life is crammed with leftover me;
I don't know what to do, and it's lonelycold, unbearable, rainful.

'Bye, Jerry.
When dawn comes, I'll have to pretend there's a tomorrow,
and there it will be no matter what--
without me caring, without you there.
_______

For Karin's "No More" challenge at Real Toads 

 

 

17 comments:

  1. Holy cats, girl. This is outstanding!!!

    I love these lines/sections:

    "love can be that way, can't it?--illogical, like improv, chancy"

    "I wore no black,
    but the night lent me its share
    and I wrapped it over my shoulders
    and knotted it in my hair"

    "Look, Jer, I'm 3 a.m.--
    your girl full of stars"

    "There's no more of you, but life is crammed with leftover me"

    "it's lonelycold, unbearable, rainful"

    It is INSANE that you can write like this. Sheesh. Magic, girl. That's all that explains it.

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  2. rich tureen of meanings and textures

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  3. A wonderful poem--I agree with (I guess) Shawna--the stanza about wearing the night's black is so terrific, and the poem seems to take a sort of turn with that stanza into very particular and real heartbreak. Agh. Thanks so much for participating in the prompt and with this poem. k.

    ps == still so sorry about Skittles and the cat. k.

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  4. Wonderful, the night wrapping around you, "your girl full of stars", "life is crammed with leftover me", and the having to "pretend there's a tomorrow". Every single poem you write is absolutely stellar.

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  5. Those last 6 words--especially--are well-crafted.

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  6. So many terrific lines.... complex emotions and the final line just wow

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  7. Life hurts sometimes. I know that last stanza well. But things get better, slowly at first. The first part is hazy, as it really is. Sort of in a daze, it all became blurry.
    ..

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  8. your creativity is amazing. your ability to emote with words is unparalleled.

    gracias for sharing

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  9. That no more in love tend to cling to you. The imagery of stars and night is so befitting so great. And yes those lines pointed out above

    Look, Jer, I'm 3 a.m.--
    your girl full of stars

    with stars inside a pressure-cooker. It's a long time, but I do remember nights like that. Where dawn comes and can just hope for a tomorrow.

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  10. Yes, stunning. You sure nailed it: 'life is crammed with leftover me' etc.

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  11. For me it's the combination of that filmy introductory stanza and the fourth that rock this poem--like a cradle, I might add, with a foundling in it, and not like KISS or some other obscenity. How we hang on to what is bound to go, and when it does, are left as empty-handed as we knew we would be, if not more, because the imagination cannot really give us grief like that in any real way. Every line here is etched with the acid of emotion, yet the run-off still tastes sweet.

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  12. I just adore the faithful / rainful rhyme. Rainful - what a luscious word.

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  13. This is a heartbreaker, start to finish.
    That line that begins, There's no more of you... brought a lump to my throat.

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  14. There's no more of you, but life is crammed with leftover me

    wow...

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  15. Love your poem, love this version of "If I Fell" ~~ and this line blew me away "the night lent me its share and I wrapped it over my shoulders
    and knotted it in my hair" ...

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  16. We walk our ghosts...tomorrow is impossible silence when loss steals sunlight. This is such a gut wrenching poem of loss. Powerful

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  17. lonelycold - that says it all.

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Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?