Monday, April 2, 2018

Poetry Reading

In my open shoulder bag,
the second dream
from my third night with you.
It is wrapped in satin taken
from the step of a tomcat on the sill in the dark.

That night,
clocks were lit and lined my book shelf like roosting dawn.
I was a caravan crossing your skin,
wearing borrowed Moroccan prayers
and dizzy as a thief after a chase.
I have grown my hair long, since then,
yet still it contains only certain birds, rising suns, water cups--
never the Saint Creolan medal you wore every day
when we were together. 

In my open shoulder bag,
there are patchouli leaves and musk.
I will read them to seventeen people from a small stage,
and describe in dunes what I felt that night--
our third, and the second dream I had
while resting in your arms; a baked curve of horizon
with heat lines rising 
like waterbirds taking flight 
from each glorious thorn of our entwined mirage.
______

for Karin's "April Second" prompt at Toads.

15 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

Oh hell... this is where I give up and go about my business as church warden's housekeeper.. Too much beauty for one day.

Jealous, much? they ask. Nah! I take pride in ironing the altar cloths.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

You take me breath away with your amazing imagery. I especially love "i was a caravan crossing your skin with borrowed Moroccan prayers." Wow!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

My breath. And i'm with Kerry and the altar cloths. Smiles.

L C Folks said...

Beautiful, I love it all. To have such an experience and memories carried onward, would be wonderful :-)

Gillena Cox said...

your images : a blown mind experience

much love...

Mama Zen said...

"from the step of a tomcat"

That alone is poem enough to leave me frenzied with jealousy.

Anonymous said...

your imagery is evocative and intriguing
"there are patchouli leaves and musk.
I will read them to seventeen people from a small stage,"

annell said...

Yes, I loved each word! So much to love: "the tomcat in the dark, clocks were lit and lined my book shelf like roosting dawn, a cara van crossing your skin, dizzy as a thief, (I have grown my hair long - gives me a sense of time) The patchouli leaves and musk, waterbird taking flight"...a wonderful poem!

Magaly Guerrero said...

That shoulder bag most smell delicious.

Cloudia said...

Final line like a cut gem

Toni Spencer said...

Sigh...I am content to just hand the iron to the ironing women....and stand wait for them to complete the task.

Susie Clevenger said...

Goodness, I wish someone had written this for me. Sigh...

Outlawyer said...

Wonderful torrid imagery, easy to sense as you cal it up. Thanks much. K.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Now I feel all tingly and – like Sherry – breathless.

hedgewitch said...

A love poem as only yours can be, Shay--bright as a diamond set not in some glossy high dollar setting, but shining instead out from the dark ground of a dream where it has lain forever, waiting to be beautiful...all this and Saint Creola, too--I am swooning. :_)