If it were time for me to die
I would ring my rue with scarlet red
and wear it as a binding scarf
sewn from every word I said.
If it were time for me to sleep
like a stone the river runs above
I would count the clouds from underneath
an accountant in the house of love.
If it were time for me to speak
with roses growing from my teeth
I'd talk of roots and bark and limbs
and dress my skin in paraffins.
If it were time for me to pay
Charon for my journey home
I'd fill my purse with copper coins
and jelly made from angel bones.
If it were time for me to die
I would ring my rue with climbing vines
and lay my head where heads can rest
with hyacinths and columbines.
__________
image: black barlow columbine
Very Edna St Vincent Millay, in mood and structure, yet pure Fireblossom in that first brilliant stanza especially, and lines like "..I would count the clouds from underneath/an accountant in the house of love.." The pastoral feel seems innocent but underneath there's a more sinister current of foreshadowing--the time is not now, but its presence is somewhere that can be felt, around a corner or down an unexpected stair...beautiful, melodic poem, Shay.
ReplyDeleteAnother gem in your poetic crown, Shay, this one an amethyst flecked with a macabre dust clouding its innocence, as Joy points out.
ReplyDeleteAs in these lines --
"I'd fill my purse with copper coins
and jelly made from angel bones."
Exquisite verse.
Wow. Gob-smacked, especially by the stone under the river counting clouds - "an accountant in the house of love." You should be world-famous. I keep saying.
ReplyDeleteThe title is perfect and the poem is somber and gorgeous. Musing on death as a mercy and means of forgetting is so human, so relatable, but you wrote it so elegantly. The whole poem is superb. I am especially enamored with the first two stanzas.
ReplyDelete"roses growing from my teeth" - where does that come from? Great words and amazing images. Certainly a captivating write.
ReplyDelete