if my mouth did not fill with pebbles,
my teeth to a breakwater,
my tongue to a dying whale
each time I try.
See how the sun hangs in the sky, lugubrious as a defective,
lighting our possibilities with its dusty shine?
I would dance for you
except that ravens have collected my shinbones and tarsals
as trinkets for their nest.
Still, joy is possible.
You shove the Universe, I'll pick its pocket
and we'll set up the world's most elaborate lie
to stun ourselves into devotion.
That's when you'll guess my name, Mary of the Maritimes,
and skip yourself over my body like a thrown stone.
_______
A second poem for camera FLASH! at Real Toads. Again, I was inspired by the lighthouse card, already posted on this blog with my first effort.
I have read three lines and am sitting here marvelling at how you DO that - the breakwater teeth, the tongue a dying whale. Oh my goodness. The ravens! And "Still, joy is possible / You shove the Universe, I'll pick its pocket." Why are you not famous all over the world? Well, you are to us!
ReplyDeleteI feel the same way! She should and deserves to be famous to the world! 🤩 And yes she is famous to us in the blogging world!
DeleteWhatever I am paying you two to say this stuff, it isn't nearly enough!
ReplyDeleteThanks you so much. You are making me blush.
Your use of the verb 'fill' in the opening stanza is just perfect, and the poem only gets better from there. The lugubrious sun, the tarsels and trinkets, all weave your mastery of vocabulary and syntax into an organic whole. I love it all, but the couplet about picking pockets is my personal favorite. Just a fine,feeling piece Shay.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, dear BFF o' mine! :-)
ReplyDeleteAdore the raven line. You always deliver with character depth and clever wording...
ReplyDeleteYou shove the Universe, I'll pick its pocket
ReplyDeleteand we'll set up the world's most elaborate lie
to stun ourselves into devotion.
How could one refuse such an offer? I love every line of this, Shay. So glad my lighthouse gave you a second nudge, and this poem arose.