Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Sunday, Bookstore Cafe



Sunday morning,

I bought a blueberry muffin and a book;

The book I set aside.



The slant of light through the big windows

Reminded me of you, and again I found myself mourning;

I always feed my mourning.



My muffin is a sweet golden brown, uneven and pleasing to the touch,

Like your arms with the delicate hairs up and down them,

And, sometimes, the little rising bumps.



I cannot trust my vision,

And so I peel the fluted paper by feel, as I did when undressing you

With fingertips like cirrus clouds.



I have never been able to resist

Sweetness flecked with blue...

I have never been able to allay

My tenderness or my hunger...for you.



Even though I know

The thorn in my heart is not the muffin in my hand,

I seek it there.

Berries plucked too early are tart--

And yet I savor them,

Holding them on my tongue as I held you in perfect moments--

When vivid life coursed up through your body

Like your fingers through my hair.



A little girl says,

"Mommy, that lady is crying."

But I am only finishing my blueberry muffin,

Kissing its soft heart

Even as I devour it

With an appetite I hadn't known I still possessed.

_______

17 comments:

  1. I will never see/eat a blueberry muffin without thinking of your painterly words

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  2. WOW! I think - one of your best! The grief is palpable and the muffin....oh, that muffin! It happens I make wicked blueberry muffins and have a short short story about muffins I made for someone once right after he dumped me-because he'd miss my MUFFINS???? (Oh, good God!)

    ANYWAY. BEAUTIFUL!
    "fingertips like cirrus clouds"
    The real-life Sunday morning/mourning, the melancholy, the imagery, the perfection of the writing........poems just dont get any better than this.

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  3. Wow, I had a blueberry muffin this morning but this brings a whole new and enlightened meaning to eating a muffin!

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  4. I found myself mourning;I always feed my mourning." Oh, do I ever relate. So beautiful. this poem is, and the boy seeing your grief made me think of this poem:
    http://thestorialist.blogspot.com/2010/09/empathy.html
    xoxo

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  5. Oddly enough I just made blueberry muffins! Seriously, this is quite nice.

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  6. This is masterful.

    My words cannot express how this makes me feel.
    I am, saddenedstupifiedenthralledfuckingamazed.

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  7. Can you GET more passionate?? I liked the "sweetness flecked with blue" and "hunger...for you" verse most of all. Wow!

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  8. So melancholy - those beautiful words...

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  9. Tee hee! :0) The poor muffin probably didn't even see it coming.

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  10. Once again you have a whole way all your own to capture a grieving heart...you are amazing Shay!:-)

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  11. Wow. I can't even make a muffin joke. This is too bittersweet.

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  12. Starve a stoning

    feed a yearning...
    or something...


    mmmm, blueberries!

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