enough to keep hearts beating, but
hypoxia made us believe it was love.
Your fallen eyelash black on the pillow
turned to a swan,
our future a loaf.
We called its hissing a song and danced
in the night of its wing, warm and blind.
Our marriage in space, though invalid, was dope ballet.
Now we have a cat, and the swan is dead.
I live in our cat's ear,
you on its tail,
composing music out of echos
transforming motion into purpose,
all of it faux and yet it takes up every space,
Every thought,
every moment.
So we say, "Look at our cat, stuffed with swan,
his head tilting side to side at us,
isn't he absurd?"
He licks his lips and bats us together,
like dolls in the hands of a misfit girl
Laughing, screaming, friendless except for the stuff she can summon from her damaged and endless imagination.
________
for Sunday Muse 117.
I absolutely love this Shay. The title is purrfection! From sips of air to dope ballet and a cat stuffed with swan, so many brilliant lines and a true picture of a relationship that went awry before it began.
ReplyDelete"hypoxia made us believe it was love" - Best Line Ever.
ReplyDeleteIt never ceases to amaze me, your multiple vision that sees intricate worlds in an image and manages to bring each one vividly into play with the others--the metaphors here are exquisite, painful, precise, and evoke a myriad of emotions, interactions and retreats. My favorite lines come at the end of the second stanza, but I can't help but gasp a little at the last four, which are stunning--and the final lines are a splash of ice water down the back. Again the bar goes spinning, winding up somewhere beyond the astronaut in this pic. Just excellent writing, Shay.
ReplyDelete“Our marriage in space, though invalid, was dope ballet.” ... lol, I love that.
ReplyDeleteThere is a universe in this poem. Cats can certainly own their world and those who inhabit it. I am totally overcome again by your talent. Thanks for being you. In this closed off world I am so grateful to be able to travel bits of your imagination.
ReplyDeleteMesmerizing. That black swan is an amazing metaphor and catches space and comfort and once-in-a-lifetime at once.
ReplyDeleteWow. Composing music out of echoes. No one writes lost love better than you. Stellar.
ReplyDeleteLaughing, screaming, friendless
ReplyDeleteexcept for the stuff, she can summon
from her damaged and endless imagination
Good play of words Shay! One can expect to be taken to any direction and it is still acceptable!
Hank
" So we say, "Look at our cat, stuffed with swan,
ReplyDeletehis head tilting side to side at us,
isn't he absurd?" -- Sometimes it is the absurdity that keeps us sane these days and makes us laugh and escape from reality. Your poem takes a picture, a situation, melds the two into one wonderfully escapist write!
Shay--I especially loved the "hypoxia" line and the "dope ballet." This pandemic has not slowed you down, has it! ;)
ReplyDeleteThis was enthralling. Both the subject matter and your weave of imagination combine to create something so artful and memorable. Love this.
ReplyDeleteI keep reading, "cats stuffed with swans". Very imaginative poem, Shay!
ReplyDeleteI have been reading your poetry for years ... and still you thrill, inspire, challenge, educate .... make me want to have a ring side view into your imagination.
ReplyDeletehypoxia made us believe it was love...
ReplyDeleteAs always, a poem filled with cracker lines. I, too now have a cat, seemingly having been adopted by a wild one. I hope you are keeping well, Shay.
All the best.