Saturday, October 23, 2010

Lace



My room has lace curtains;

The neighbor's yard light creates an illusion on the opposite wall,

Making it look like a curtained window, too,

Though it is only wood and plaster and fleeting patterns of light.


I have been dreaming that I was in Paris, with you;

Your skin as smooth as cafe au lait,

And yours still the most perfect thighs my shadowed room has ever seen.


We went out, sometimes, in this dream, to the Eiffel Tower,

And "La Vie En Rose" played constantly;

All of that may be cliche,

But your French accent was still killer,

Just as it always really was.


In this dream, I still thought I was pretty,

And I was going to wear red for you;

I was holding something slight and silky when you let me know

That, for all that I am

And for all that I am not,

You were going to go.


I woke up to the faux lace on my wall,

And knew that those words weren't really yours,

Weren't really anything you would ever have said to me,

Because you're both too distant and too kind;

And yet, still,

Though I seemed to be looking at a dim curtained window,

I knew, just like I knew then,

That I couldn't pass through it,

To Paris,

Or to anyplace,

As long as I am wide awake and so many miles and years away from you;

The only place I can get to from here, is tomorrow,

And that has nothing whatever to do with you,

Except maybe some cafe au lait

In the mug I filled for you

When you were here and it sat forgotten

Through kisses that belonged to a different life.

___________

13 comments:

Brian Miller said...

dang...i feel the longing and the tightness of memory in this one...happy saturday shay

Susannah said...

This is exquisite and beautiful. I love the way you write. :-)

Lynn said...

I'm feeling a little sadness there, too. Beautiful words...

Scarlet Ily said...

This reads like a dream...a dream of being in a faraway room in a faraway country with faraway thoughts. Thanks for taking me far away this morning, chica. This was lovely.

ellen abbott said...

oh, sigh. And sigh again.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

This is a killer POEM and I so know that longing and nostalgia and remembrance and regret and.......pain for what was. It does read like a dream, one gets pulled right in. You can WRITE girl!!!!!

I love the line "the only place I can get to is tomorrow". I hope your tomorrows bring you all you are seeking, and the fullness of those feelings once again. This poem is incredibly beautiful, and sad. Goes straight to the heart. A killer poem. Like I said.

TALON said...

This was as soft as the lace curtains and sad as only an empty space can be...

La Belette Rouge said...

A Pointillism of memories of things past. Dots of memory, desire and the empty spaces in between. Le sigh!

p.s.I think the dream is saying that you need to go to Paris as soon as possible. :-)

Cloudia said...

Take me away, Shay!




Aloha from Hawaii

Comfort Spiral

><}}(°>

mac said...

I fell into a slumber and dreamed I had read the most fantastic Poem.
I awakened to find it was

Here, on this page :-)

Riot Kitty said...

That is so like a reverie.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

And even better tonight. Yes, you must go to Paris!

Mama Zen said...

This is soft and dream-like and achingly sad.