Espantajo,
I kissed you
but my lips knew no remedy
for you, standing cruciform
in a desert wind.
Espantajo,
wrapped in
cornhusk feathers,
no sky knows you.
Espantajo,
I could not move you
from your place in the night.
For you,
all things rise in the west
sleep in the west
make love in the west
and die in the west.
You married a northern woman
like un espirito muerto
appearing in a photograph.
Espantajo,
Face away from my house now.
I have green glass
bottles sleeping
in the branches all night
to snare spirits.
Espantajo,
The same old wind
rattles you
and you call it talking.
Silencio, damned scarecrow.
If you can't love,
can't move,
can't hold a woman,
what good are you?
_________
For Dverse Poetics "I Have No Word In English For..." hosted by my friend Dora.
The formal word for "ghost" in Spanish is fantasma, but espantajo, while literally meaning "scarecrow," also colloquially refers to a ghost or apparition.
The story and imagery in this poem-story are so evocative. You drew me right in. I felt the loneliness of the ghost and saw his image clearly in the dark, along with the spirit-resisting green bottles in the tree. Wonderful.
ReplyDeleteSo beautifully done, Shay. If I weren't already conversant with your poetic light, its brilliance here would take me by surprise. Any string of adjectives -- haunting, bittersweet, poignant with unrequited love --- would just dilute its effect. The round syllabic repetition of "espantajo" just enhances the longing, the self-inflicted pain. I have to say that opening. stanza . . . the statement, the image . . .
ReplyDelete"my lips knew no remedy
for you, standing cruciform
in a desert wind" is packed with so many discordant notes of suffering and resignation that it gives lie to the closing stanza's bravado, to leaving the scarecrow/ghost behind.
You caught me out, QCD. Well spotted indeed.
DeleteI love your great poem. You described that scarecrow so very well!
ReplyDeleteA stunning poem, Shay! I love the way ‘espantajo’ runs all the way through it – great use of repetition – ghost-like, ‘wrapped in cornhusk feathers’, and ‘like un espirito muerto appearing in a photograph’. I've never heard of ‘green glass bottles sleeping in the branches all night to snare spirits’ – is that a thing?
ReplyDeleteWhy is it that so often ghosts are so much more real to us than the living, that speaking to them we have none of the secrets and pretenses we bring to our talks with the living? This is a scathing indictment of a soul dead before it's time, yet also a musical and moving love poem full of both that ineffable duende of the Spanish language poets, and the cold wind that comes from opening the sepulchre doors of the heart and examining what is exhumed. I especially loved the third stanza..from its opening line on. Fantastic writing...or should I say 'fantasma..'
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love your poem and how you draw on the double meaning of the word. One of my favorites for this prompt. Can't single out a line or two.. love the entire poem. So well done, Shay.
ReplyDeleteThe shere beauty of the word gloss the scarecrow aspects of the name until you paint the whole part of the cruciform in the field and being named for what he is:
ReplyDeleteIf you can't love,
can't move,
can't hold a woman,
what good are you?
I strayed into your word garden and found echoes of my own soul, ghost-written...
ReplyDeleteThat was awesome, Shay!
ReplyDeleteYvette M Calleiro :-)
http://yvettemcalleiro.blogspot.com
OK, this is really fantastic. The inability of the scarecrow to be fully human expressed with the longing and opprobrium of a jilted lover. The poem keeps its grip on us line after line, image after image. And that ending!! "If you can't hold a woman, what good are you?" is just amazing.
ReplyDeleteI guess my second husband was a scare crow. This is beautiful and amazing Shay! I especially love the stanza of all the wests and a northern woman. This one I could relate to way too much!!
ReplyDelete