A bold black cricket came in from the night
with a message wrapped around his leg
I offered him bread, my body, my bed
and an indigo blue Russian egg.
He had only the song that crickets know
taught them by their dying mothers
He played it on the silk and scar of my skin
and told me there would be no others.
My hair is blond, his body was black
and hard as the truth in a mirror
The night was warm, the dawn too quick
and the last time drew one season nearer.
_____
A song by Joni, artwork by Joni AND a poem by Shay. That's a hat trick and I'm a winner today.
ReplyDeleteI especially loved the 2nd stanza:
He had only the song that crickets know
taught them by their dying mothers
He played it on the silk and scar of my skin
Only you could write a soaring piece about a cricket...
and told me there would be no others.
and the last two lines:
The night was warm, the dawn too quick
and the last time drew one season nearer.
Wonderful! As enchanting as cricket-song. How I love these lines:
ReplyDeleteMy hair is blond, his body was black
and hard as the truth in a mirror
Enchanting!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and sad all in the cricket song.
ReplyDeleteThis is as sharp as cricket song in the stillness of a lonely night. It gets into your head, an irritant that gradually becomes music as you learn the tune. I love the analogy, and the way you know the cricket for what he is here, as he knows you. the rhyme and cadence give this almost a fairytale feel, especially that first stanza, but the sting in the finish makes it all too real. And I love that song, as you know.
ReplyDeleteThis was simply gorgeous to read. I love the odd little courtship that seemed to unfold here, the surrealism alone won me...how you gave him a blue Russian egg, your body, your bed. And how he played you the song that only crickets know on the silk and scar of your skin <3
ReplyDeleteSunra Rainz
Shay,
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed this so much! You've created a mythology here that is fascinating, the cricket as the minstrel, lover and visitor embodying the voluptuous and the meager range of passion. Beautifully done.
pax,
dora
I just love this, it got me thinking about Kafka. You should name him Gregor.
ReplyDeleteShay, like Ingrid and Jane have already said, I find your poem truly enchanting, like how the cricket enchanted the lady of the house. My favorite favorite part:
ReplyDelete"He played [his song] on the silk and scar of my skin"
:::swoon:::
Loved the 2nd stanza Shay, and you know I love me some Joni! This was a most enjoyable visit my friend… 😊
ReplyDeleteI love the chirp of crickets ... we don't have many on the high desert. I also love your poem ... thankfully we have many to savor.
ReplyDeleteI just stumbled upon this delightful poem and I am so glad I did!
ReplyDelete