I loved you. Forgive the triteness of my tongue,
I'm not the husky-voiced Delilah that I was when I was young.
Poor gentlemen, when we harpies hand 'em
our hearts like letters stuck in tandem
by a bit of glue from horses rotten
sidesaddle ridden and wrongly gotten
Like you, dear sir,
when life was kind
leaving apple blossom
scent behind
When red curls fell,
escaped their pins,
while apple cores
curled brown in bins
I loved you. Please pardon my hand laid on your sleeve
as delicate as a caught disease.
Poor object of my heart's desire,
though altered, I'm yet yours entire,
no stepping back and calling for Jesus
I don't think one so holy can see us.
I loved you. As red-handkerchieved consumptives do
the dry air of their coffins, too.
________
for The Sunday Muse #182, where I am hosting.
This poem is as intricate (and fascinating) as Celtic knotwork, stylized snakes of images weaving in and out in graceful curves, and only hinting at the poison they carry. I especially love all the couplets, and "as delicate as a caught disease." is masterly. Your tags and title , too. How the past is always with us, and the snows of yesterday, however yellow, never seem to really melt, yet curled brown apple cores and consumptives' breath tells a tale with more rot and less permanence. I love this entirely, Shay. Poe would weep with envy.
ReplyDeleteYou tell a tale in eloquent nuances!
ReplyDeleteI saw in your labels you put what I was about to say this reminded me of, Death Becomes Her. This is wonderful on so many levels; the rhyme, the voice, the images and the list goes on. I love this so much my friend! Sometimes our youth is haunting. It follows us like a ghost, yet our feet move too slowly to get away. How you captured the feel of youth, age and what haunts us, is utterly brilliant!!
ReplyDeletemagic in the tale weaving - there is more than what is hinted at in the lines, a slight bitterness biting through - but double-edged sword, who wears the cloak of shame, disgust - such as it is, such as we are - forever human, constantly tripping ourselves and each other up .... and what exactly is endurance; I believe it was Kafka who said "the more we love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is" ...
ReplyDeleteShay- I love the entire poem, but this line really stood out to me: 'I loved you. Please pardon my hand laid on your sleeve
ReplyDeleteas delicate as a caught disease.' Stunning!
+1 "delicate as a caught disease" but I really liked the red curles and the brown apples. Subtle, evocative.
ReplyDeleteOy. This is IT - the whole shebang, so finely wrought. Wow. Took my breath away, as you so often do. Phenomenal writing.
ReplyDeleteI feel this is a love that also goes on forever. It's so vivid and at times seems sweet but then the chill sets in. Nice spin on the image!
ReplyDelete"as delicate as a caught disease." Slam bam in the era of Covid19 what a line!!!
ReplyDeletehappy Sunday
much❤love
Love deeper for some than for others - a wonderfully gothic picture with a whiff of menace.
ReplyDeleteThanks for this wonderful horror show of a poem. I agree that love "as delicate as a caught disease" conjures the ghost...but I love the link of the beauty of apple blossoms with the desiccation of apple cores...an entire haunted festival breathes through these lines.
ReplyDeleteI latched onto the same phrase. I can't think of a more powerful litotes, or a better way to encapsulate that thing called 'love'. ~
ReplyDeleteWhat a magnificent poem. It is beautifully dark, and hits with power. Love the tag too "falling in love with scars."
ReplyDeleteDarkly elegant. These were gems:
ReplyDelete"I loved you. Please pardon my hand laid on your sleeve
as delicate as a caught disease."
"Loved you. As red-handkerchieved consumptives do
the dry air of their coffins, too."