has wheels, not roots.
She has, also, a blue babushka with white details--
it makes her hair seem like an October night
filled with stars.
La Gitana
calls to el gato,
but el gato does not answer.
In summer, at dawn,
he would bring her fat mice as though they were jewels--
then, on the seventh night of the seventh month,
he kept one for himself alone,
and his joy was such
that el gato never came back at all.
La Gitana
shakes out her hair
like a night wind blowing open a black gate.
Beyond it lie the fields--
La Gitana is a November flower,
never chosen, soon gone,
calling across the frost grass for el gato
who has already forgotten
her bangled, hopeful, empty arms.
_______
photograph by Mama Zen, whose work appears regularly in Fun With Gourds, The Amalgamated Exotic Baptists' Union Newsletter, and Now What Did I Do With My Glasses? Ms. Zen is adored by her adherents, who worship at a shrine they have built and dedicated to her glory, outside of Walmart.
La Gitana--a Spanish Gypsy woman
gato--cat
linked to Real Toads mini challenge
love this line: shakes out her hair
ReplyDeletelike a night wind blowing open a black gate.
I love this! You never cease to amaze me with the characters you create.
ReplyDeleteI love the October night filled with stars. And one more lovely story. You seem to have an endless supply of them and each one is brilliant. Especially love "La Gitana is a November flower, never chosen, soon gone." And oh those bangled, hopeful, empty arms. Killer.
ReplyDeleteLove how you guided us! Great ending...You words so fit MZen's photo! I enjoyed it~ :D
ReplyDelete"it makes her hair seem like an October night
ReplyDeletefilled with stars."
"shakes out her hair
like a night wind blowing open a black gate."
"Never chosen, soon gone," and your last line, too...
Excellent writing, Shay!
fickle creatures. breaking hearts...
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and ethereal.
ReplyDeleteOoh! Your empty-armed gypsy becomes October personified to me. I love the beauty of the description of her starry hair at the end of stanza 1. The cat and mouse of season's whim is truly inspired imagery.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad to see the spirit of Babs D'Argent lives on in the post-poem notes, much to my delight. (I think I have put my loose change into that kettle at the shrines outside Wal-Mart.)
ReplyDeleteThe first stanza is vintage Fireblossom,that misty and delicate feminine hand inside a glove of iron, hitting all the chins of cliche and convention and knocking them flat with simple, luminous imagery--and the whole poem goes on from there. Beautiful incense from the burning heart.
This is so sad and lonely. I can almost see his glee at discovering he can make it without her. The world is full of flowers, is it not?
ReplyDeleteYou can describe the beauty of hair like no other poet.
Your last stanza is my favorite (especially the opening of the black gate). Sorrow written with such care and beauty.
"calling across the frost" ... Exquisite rhyme/sound, my dear.
My absolute favorite part: "who has already forgotten
her bangled, hopeful, empty arms"
Great framing of the piece, opening and closing with the hair and gypsy references. Bravo. I love this one.
Such a wonderful vivid poem - This cat is pretty cool and I can imagining mourning woman - the cat not so bad now - the hair and bangled arms work beautifully.
ReplyDeleteAlso adherent to MZ shrine though no walmarts in NYC. k.
Lord, woman, this is gorgeous.
ReplyDeleteNow, what did I do with my glasses?
This is a beautiful piece, Shay.
ReplyDeleteNow, if the shrine to Mama Zen is outside of Walmart, are her followers in those pictures of "People of Walmart"? Just wondering...
Gonna grow my hair long so I can shake it out like a night wind blowing open a black gate .. might take me a few years.
ReplyDeleteGitana could be autumn herself; she could be the fleeting life of humanity; she is a fortune teller who people visit and leave as she is supposed to roll on, roll on. n your poem I felt for her and wanted her in my life--starlit skies, grateful cats, a never-never land of youth and romance. Poor Lady! I love
ReplyDelete"La Gitana
shakes out her hair
like a night wind blowing open a black gate.
Beyond it lie the fields--"
I wish it had not ended with empty arms, but "no me importa nada"--if you can believe that.
Love this so much! What a fickle gato! This poem makes me wish my hair were long so I could shake it out like a night wind blowing open a black gate! Ahhhh...
ReplyDeleteFabulous write, Shay. I found it somewhat heartbreaking but wonderfully done.
ReplyDeleteK
While reading this, shades of "The Day Of The Triffids" was dancing through my head...
ReplyDeleteyour poems are mini- acid trips
ReplyDeleteAloha from Honolulu
Comfort Spiral
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Wow - I love this...there is so much here, amazing and unexpected images... knit together beautifully. (and I too enjoyed the note re. photo credits, lol)
ReplyDeleteat last a name for a condition i seem to suffer
ReplyDelete...United Exotic Baptists !!! You are too funny. Your creativity is off the charts here... I don't pretend to understand it all, but I I loved:
ReplyDeletehe would bring her fat mice as though they were jewels--
and to her, I suppose they were. To each their own. :)
that fickle el gato! stunning photograph!
ReplyDelete♥