Thursday, February 15, 2018

JAMA to this, motherfuckers

I had a little ache in the heart,
and so sought the cure prescribed in pop songs
with you
and you
and you
and you
and you.
Results ranged from muttered obscenities Q 2 hours as needed
to inability or disinterest in getting out of bed, observed for up to 3 months.
In sum, none of it was worth
the elevated heart rate, 
the altered mood,
the little swimmy endorphins which followed my boat after you'd been aboard.
Darlings,
all of you may kindly fuck off.

Contrary data poured in in response:
"She is mercurial, alternately combative or child-like,
not as interesting as she seems at first,
too solitary, talks everything to death, 
writes those god damn poems afterward."
They allowed as to how I could kindly fuck off as well. 

Too bad
that we arrived exchanging charm and kindness,
only to follow the usual course of dis-ease
to a trading of vitriol and silence.
The good news is
that we are immune now,
free to walk again among men (or women) without fear or hope, either one.
Dig my dead smile
promising nothing,
desiring nothing,
done and cured after all,
patient X back at ground zero, sick of love but medically cleared--
a success story in journals that do not publish poetry.
______

for "Love Hurts" at Toads.

 

16 comments:

Mama Zen said...

This has such splendid teeth! If I started quoting most loved lines, I'd fill the page.

hedgewitch said...

As always, a complex, lyrical, and scathing ride through the dark of the heart, with a guide who never fails to point out the worst or the best. Your last stanza is beyond chilling.

Rommy said...

I had hoped you'd play along because I like your style with topics like this. I was not disappointed.

Toni Spencer said...

Patient cleared....like, how do MDs know this stuff, right? One can only clear oneself and it looks like you have done it. I love the repetition of and you.....like a record skipping.

Sherry Marr said...

Oh yes, this is why some of us swear off loving humans and turn to dogs, who know how to love for real, and forever. Sigh. I knew your poem would be perfect. We have our doctorate in pain in this particular area.

murias swan said...

Is that an Alabama reference in the title?

Fireblossom said...

JAMA = "The Journal of the American Medical Association."

Vivian Zems said...

Your poems always have a kick to them. And this did not disappoint. A for attitude...all the way.

Kim Russell said...

Wow, Shay, this poem blows a storm, slowly and then like a hurricane.
I love the way you tell the little swimmy endorphins which followed my boat after you'd been aboard' to 'kindly fuck off' and the final denial:
'patient X back at ground zero, sick of love but medically cleared'.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Oh, for that immunity, for that once and for ever cure. For the final get the fuck out a here...

Three cheers and mazel tov to those who get it right.

murias swan said...

Rama Jama, you know.

"Dig my dead smile
promising nothing,
desiring nothing,
done and cured after all,
patient X back at ground zero, sick of love but medically cleared--"

That kicks ass.

Helen said...

That contrary data made me giddy ... in fact the entire poem did!

brudberg said...

There is a cure for everything... but where would poetry be...

reminds me of Lady Lovelace, lord Byron's daughter who was brought up as far as possible from any poetry... she ended up as a very skilled mathematician

Margaret said...

Curl up with JAMA (which I have actually scanned a few pages before bedtime before - don't recommend) or curl up with poetry... I know which I choose. Liked the line "so sought the cure prescribed in pop songs..." those lyrics can be convincing at times.

Sara McNulty said...

Digging the dead smile! Thanks for the added bonus of music.

Brendan MacOdrum said...

You're one of the few poets I know who can hum so merrily while filing her teeth. Satire that is wickedest delight. And such carrion! cooked to perfection! the juices peal as the pearlies sink in.