with bloom-eyes of aster sockets.
Accept me as your fleshless bride in degrees of white,
your rock-bound toad with the sand-grit kiss
always emptying, dear--
betray me--I won't care.
Marry me when I'm dead,
and consider:
Asters are named for the stars they resemble,
which, similarly, require no air.
______
A Friday 55 for my BFF.
Re-worked from when I first posted it.
ReplyDeleteAs soon as I saw the title in your link I knew I would love this one--asters are some of my favorite flowers, coming as they do after everything else has given up, and in those shades of blue and purple that are so rare in the flower world--like your poems are rare in the blogosphere, this one included, in their beauty and in their uniqueness. I especially love the images in the center stanza--always emptying, indeed. The metaphor is tied up so neatly that like an aster in the tall grass, you can easily miss it in the glitter of that last line, but when you see it, it floors you. Just an excellent 55, and now my weekend is guaranteed to be kickass. thanks so much for playing.
ReplyDeleteI can always see the facial expressions of your speakers--and I love that. Those eyes full of themselves and expecting little from anyone else, unless they want to give... and even if they do, the giving won't change her a whole lot. Because she is what she is, until she isn't... and when that that comes, well... she won't care.
ReplyDeleteA fantastic 55! I love the title.
ReplyDelete"Marry me when I'm dead." That might just be the best marriage. Ironically, asters hold on to their petals much longer than a rose. Perhaps marriage in this case would be more like haunting.
ReplyDeleteGosh that ending is freaking fantastic!!❤️ Wonderfully done, Shay!❤️
ReplyDeleteWow, Shay - such a potent expression of commitment, over and above that which most mortals can abide. The final lines took my breath away.
ReplyDeleteIf I had the eloquence of Hedgewitch I could do your work justice. But as it is I must gesture and mutter: "Good Good" and "Me Like"
ReplyDeleteUnlike Hedgewitch, I always resist the asters and their dowdy sisters, the mums, being never ready for the appearance of either one. You make me consider them differently, and more kindly. So thanks for that!
ReplyDelete