the one you find fearless,
standing by the resale store
holding the rising sun in her half-curled fingers.
You quit getting stoned when you heard the trainman
blow his whistle in a nightmare at noon,
but now look--you're wasted on this woman.
Her, with her corona of crows, and pigeon entourage.
Love is lazy, chica. It sleeps cos it feels like falling,
and only gets up to set the winter on fire.
You need those ice-bones that doxed a coffin
but you're pouring yourself out like a tapped sugar tree.
I know, baby, I know. Love the buzz, hate the forecast,
but here's religion, honey, here's firecrackers on the altar:
the bright on her body, the heavens in her hand?
It all came from you. She's just a moon, reflecting,
And she blinks out every time you close your eyes.
image: Chinese actress Fan Bingbing
Whoa. This is brilliant. "Love the buzz, hate the forecast" and "she's just a moon, reflecting" that blinks out every time you close your eyes. I love it.ReplyDelete
A vision of a poem, Shay. The glorious visuals here just send us reeling, the myth-making magnificence of the woman bewitching us until this: "It all came from you. She's just a moon, reflecting" hits us smack between the eyes. Love it!ReplyDelete
This: "holding the rising sun in her half-curled fingers." and this: "here's firecrackers on the altar" So good. And "Love the buzz, hate the forecast" is perfect.ReplyDelete
such a magnificent weaving of word juxtapositions -ReplyDelete
"you quit getting stoned when you heard the trainman
blow his whistle.."
You've drawn a portrait deliberately, of not just the temptress, but the tempted, and both come alive under your pen. That ending was just a gut punch, and while it is an obvious truth we all do our best to ignore it. This is studded with bright, unforgettable images in each stanza, and rings with authenticity. I honestly didn't even notice the list words--excellent stuff, heady as a Nyro song.ReplyDelete
You are the queen of magnificent imagery my friend! So many glorious lines but I adore, "love is lazy chica it sleeps cos it feel like falling and only gets up to set the winter on fire"....sigh that is one gorgeous line Shay!ReplyDelete
"holding the rising sun in her half-curled fingers"
"You're pouring yourself out like a tapped sugar tree"
"She's just a moon, reflecting"
What an empoweringly feminine poem. You use such fine images to illustrate this person's wake-up call. Wonderful, Shay <3
You deserve an audience as big as the wide wide world!ReplyDelete
Damnnnnn gurll, tell em’. I think you’re fearless. You. holding the sun like an Aztec goddess. Love is lazy, chica - I paused, at that line, properly evoked. This has such a specific mood. The directness of the whole piece, and the colloquial language, is stimulating - as if gaining energy from a crowd. The culmination in that final stanza, it’s symbolism, it’s agelessly beautiful.ReplyDelete