Saturday, December 2, 2017

A Pose Of Monkeybones

This isn't just a pose of monkeybones--
no one made of flesh ever willed a fever down,
or talked sense when fingers curled just so to make the nightstorms roll.

You might think I'm made of straw and stone,
a long-skull girl with marrow-eyes in every broken bone
so close to heart and beat and breath--
Mercy tangled in my hair, out of reach except
for the loud-strike, rain-shriek
inside these abandoned bones--
woman, monkey, open sky that shakes and moans
until there's nothing left.
_______

for Camera FLASH.

13 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

This is awe-inspiring, Shay. The intro is perfect! And the second stanza... What a glorious cry of the essential feminine principle. You saw what could be wild and free in this overtly patriarchal portrait.

Kim Russell said...

I love this poem, Shay, from the 'pose of monkeybones' and 'long-skull girl with marrow-eyes in every broken bone' to 'Mercy tangled in my hair' and the 'rain-shriek'!

Sanaa Rizvi said...

This is so powerful! For some reason i m reminded of women all over the world who face injustice and abuse and can hear 'the rain-shriek' as a battle cry for revolution.

hedgewitch said...

Only you could write this Shay--I seem to say that a lot, but it's true of so much of your poetry--not a derivative word or line in it, and every image stark and real. The marrow eyes--and so much more here--seem to shine in a darkness there is no escaping. The finish, staring with 'Mercy tangled in my hair...' just blew me away. Fine fine writing.

hedgewitch said...

starting, not staring...!!!

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Oh Shay, awe-inspiring your words are. I have read over and over again and am utterly mesmerised.
Anna :o]

brudberg said...

Splendid writing... it all goes down to the bones doesn't it?
skin is just a stretch to hide the bones.

Cloudia said...

thank you Shay

said...

I love this:

"no one made of flesh ever willed a fever down,
or talked sense when fingers curled just so to make the nightstorms roll."

This is my kind of healer/witch/sorceress.

I think you would have to live with a certain degree of detachment from humanity to be able to call on such powers with effectiveness.

This reminds me of American Horror Story: Coven.

X said...

All the bones tell a story. Every hairline fracture. Every calcified crack.
You words are haunting. I wont claim to follow them all completely.

The first stanza makes me think of a mother. Able to calm the night storms, to heal the family.

The second is more the haunting. Until nothing is left but the bones. When all else is given what else is there left to give?

Susie Clevenger said...

Oh the memories bones hold, every joy, every break, every torture secreted into excuses. When I look at human bones, I wonder if I am being insensitive. They didn't die so I could stare and listen to their bone rattles. Great writing as always Shay!

Magaly Guerrero said...

The "marrow-eyes" jumped at me and printed itself in my skull--the color, the thickness of the fluid, the pain involved in filling an eyeball with things that shouldn't be there.

sreeja harikrishnan said...

Mercy tangled in my hair, out of reach except
for the loud-strike, rain-shriek
inside these abandoned bones--
woman, monkey, open sky that shakes and moans
until there's nothing left...... powerful.... loved this!!