Well, it's April,
but not so long ago you needed me.
I came to you when you were a fucking moon, and I rented your chest
so that I could warm it like a real heart.
I just wanted to get that close to your skin, your breasts, your every breath,
even though now I couldn't give a shit less, and sit on the shelf like an unread book.
Every volume contains what it contains, whether eyes share it or not.
Never mind. I'll pretend I never cared when you framed me with your perfect hands
and charged me red and utilitarian as hell. I'll lie lie upon lie,
and deny the cat rumble my throat devised on its own.
Or, I could admit everything, that I loved you, that it thrilled me,
That I would have done anything you asked just to hear the
satisfaction in your slightest sigh.
It's April, though, and old biddies who bored everybody with their reminiscences
have kindly died and shut up at last.
I'll do the same, just don't expect me to be
here on the shelf next time your fingers get itchy and something seems missing
under your ribs, in that immortal Novocaine blizzard.
_______
some of my usual bullshit for Sunny's prompt at Real Toads. "Write about love using a common everyday image."
My goodness!❤️ Such fire, such power and gosh such attitude in this poem! I absolutely love the tone, the depiction of love in all its surreal glory especially this; "Every volume contains what it contains, whether eyes share it or not. Never mind. I'll pretend I never cared when you framed me with your perfect hands and charged me red and utilitarian as hell. I'll lie lie upon lie, and deny the cat rumble my throat devised on its own. Or, I could admit everything, that I loved you, that it thrilled me" is absolutely awesome!! Thank you so much for participating, Shay ❤️
ReplyDeleteLots of love,
Sanaa
Shay--I read Sanaa's comment. Yes, an attitude-infused poem from you is soooo surprising.
ReplyDeleteThis was my favorite part. I loved how the last line from the second-to-last stanza connected with the last stanza.
"Or, I could admit everything, that I loved you, that it thrilled me,
That I would have done anything you asked just to hear the
satisfaction in your slightest sigh.
It's April, though, and old biddies who bored everybody with their reminiscences
have kindly died and shut up at last.
I'll do the same, just don't expect me to be
here on the shelf next time your fingers get itchy and something seems missing
under your ribs, in that immortal Novocaine blizzard."
Brilliance from Shay... as usual.
ha! that is one riled up space heater.
ReplyDeleteI didn't even realize I was writing to the prompt until Sanaa told me she added my pen to the link :)
Oh my goodness, how I feel every word of this.
ReplyDeletethere is never anything common in your writing, SP. brilliant as always.
ReplyDelete♡
Wow, such brilliant vituperation! (But I wonder will a different song be sung in six months' time?)
ReplyDeletepunchy, pertinent and ....fuck...ran out of p's ;)
ReplyDeleteSuch a good read though.
Lots of stabbing one-liners here, Shay, that give the poem it's spear-like drive to that empty chest where the borrowed(stolen) heart can never find its proper home. Almost prose poetry, really, and therefore very strong on narrative, yet it never loses that bell-like song that keeps it from the mundane, even as it skewers it.
ReplyDeleteyour usual passion! wishing you well, friend
ReplyDeleteYou're singing my song, sister.
ReplyDeleteI like the way you set this up, with the title and first line suggesting that the speaker is a space heater ... but not just to heat a room; to heat all of the sky and well beyond, I think. You must be the sun. Can you imagine, the sun (or a person that big, warm, and necessary) sitting on a bookshelf, unread? Complete absurdity.
ReplyDeleteFavorites:
"I rented your chest"
"Every volume contains what it contains"
"Never mind." ... I like this both ways. I wonder if you even loved her because she didn't bow down and mind/obey. She didn't do what was expected ... I guess because of that cold, cold "unreal" heart. I just don't think people like that are cold for no reason at all; I think there's a world of brokenness spinning around under such ribs. And the angrier you are, the more you say you don't give a shit, the more I'm inclined to believe that you do.
"I'll pretend I never cared when you framed me with your perfect hands" ... This makes me think you're talking about God for a second. But then it makes me think she worked at the ophthalmologist's office where you got your glasses; I think she was the one who helped you pick out your frames and ordered them for you. I think that's where the flirtation began ... ironically ... since sight ended up being so confused, even to the point that the one who gave you sight was no longer reading/seeing you as she once had.
"charged me red and utilitarian as hell" ... First this makes me think of a bull, but then it also works with the glasses theme. I think the glasses were expensive, perhaps red (unless that just has to do with the price) but also practical and maybe not the prettiest.
I love this:
"I'll lie lie upon lie,
and deny the cat rumble"
Breathtaking alliteration:
"the satisfaction in your slightest sigh"
"It's April, though, and old biddies who bored everybody with their reminiscences
have kindly died and shut up at last." ... This makes me think of church.
"just don't expect me to be
here on the shelf next time your fingers get itchy and something seems missing
under your ribs, in that immortal Novocaine blizzard"
Killer closing. Although, I would wrap it like this, to draw out the /i/ sounds at the end:
"I'll do the same; just don't expect me to be here on the shelf /
next time your fingers get itchy /
and something goes missing
under your ribs, in that immortal Novocaine blizzard."