She said,
"I shall strike a sewing needle through your heart
for a gyroscope to keep me level.
Spin, wounded dancer,
declare yourself a world."
Spinning and bleeding, he said,
"Primp yourself a pelt
for ornament and testament.
Live your life upon my wall,
to collect and devour each passing eye."
And every bird begins its bower
with a glittering bauble in the early hour.
Wearing him as he wore her, she said,
"Make yourself a mummy,
preserved forever in cement Jello.
I shall bury you with various anchors
I calve from the ice of my womb."
Tearing himself away,
he became a skeleton, dancing, playing a flute.
"I have found a new mask to marry,
made of prescriptions and rococo furnishings.
She is a lovely acid, a suicide waltz."
And every bird in its rotting nest
fades with its bauble low in the west.
______
for The Sunday Muse #175.
WOW! This is a brilliant piece of writing.
ReplyDeleteWell you have spun your magic once again my friend! From spin wounded dancer declare yourself a world, and calve from the ice of my womb, to she is a lovely acid a suicide waltz....sigh....no one can tell the truth and the tale of it all quite like you Shay!! Simply amazing!! Relationships are complicated beasts for sure!!
ReplyDeleteOuch! I used the word 'devour' too. A lovely read.
ReplyDelete"Live your life upon my wall,
ReplyDeleteto collect and devour each passing eye."
Nice one packed with interesting taunts
Happy Sunday
Much❤love
Dark Shay, but captivating…
ReplyDelete“And every bird in its rotting nest
fades with its bauble low in the west.”
We all face our sundown, our ultimate decay, the captive of or diminished meat cage.
It seems this should have taken years to write and perfect. It is an intricate masterpiece. Each line on its own is so far beyond original and brilliant, and then you stitch them together so seamlessly. Your gifts are incomparable, your art a blessing to all who arrives here.
ReplyDeleteOnce again I say, this one is my favorite.
Life and death---in one single poem...
ReplyDeleteShay, I wondered how you would end this piece as I got into it, and of course, you came up with the perfect ending. Those two last lines were incredibly powerful.
Searing. Those birds at the end felt as if they were melting.
ReplyDeleteThe fact that you can take this image and make this poem says all that can be said about how infinitely versatile and broad your brush can be. I can't do this poem justice with any comment of mine, except quote back your marvelous lines, "And every bird begins its bower/with a glittering bauble in the early hour..." to music me back to a sleeping world where truth is both vicious and comforting in its finality. Just excellent.
ReplyDeleteWow! That 4t stanza left me gasping for a moment!
ReplyDeleteYour ability to 'turn a phrase' boggles my mind .... [wearing him as he wore her] sigh.
ReplyDeleteHauntingly dark but brilliantly written. The last two lines are amazing as
ReplyDeleteeach bird will face that last piece of the sun.
And every bird in its rotting nest
fades with its bauble low in the west.
You sew these people and these lines into burial shrouds and wedding garments the same. The poem turns and tightens as you feed this into your wheel: "Spin, wounded dancer, / declare yourself a world.""
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness - as always you create amazing worlds and images. A wonderful read.
ReplyDeleteI don't know what to say. This amazing poem pulled from the image is breathtaking. I feel it with all its dark seduction, its anger, its abuse. Sorry for such a weak response, but frankly I'm rather speechless.
ReplyDeleteI love this! All of it, including the 'cement jello'.
ReplyDeletethis is awesome shay. i read about half of this a few days ago had to stop cause it gave me an idea and i didn't want to steal anymore from you. you always have good tight visuals, good sounds, this was fun to read.
ReplyDelete