I have a memory of a clover field--
white flowers in the warm June green
like spilled sugar on a farm wife's sleeve.
I have a memory of a spring lamb--
carried to the shed as the ewe screams
under a summer sky blank as muslin.
In the farm house, an old couch.
a television, and a sturdy oak table.
There is a savory aroma and mint jelly
set out with the white china plates.
My memories mix like a bowl of vegetables,
gravy on the tablecloth, blood on the ax.
I don't like to remember,
even in summer, on a bright afternoon.
_______
for What's Going On? "Memory"
Music: Cat Stevens Into White
Ka-pow! And you knock me out once more. Each image so vivid i can see it. And then "My memories mix like a bowl of vegetables, gravy on the tablecloth, blood on the ax." Incredible. The mint jelly, the blood, the lamb. Gah.
ReplyDeleteOh, this is vivid. I never experienced anything like this, and I will say thank goodness.The strongest image for me in your poem is of the ewe screaming. I could never have eaten the lamb no matter how savory the aroma.
ReplyDeleteShay, this is so evocative. Disturbing memories can be so powerful. Indeed, who does want them to invade and ruin an otherwise bright and pleasing day.
ReplyDeleteWhat a powerful ending - how full the memories and then you so eloquently ended with the pain they have caused
ReplyDelete"I don't like to remember,
ReplyDeleteeven in summer, on a bright afternoon."
Oh you bring it back--a goat I loved and a rabbit named George--and a little girl refusing to eat. I had forgotten. And step by step, you bring it back in this brilliant poem, image by innocent image.
Like spilled sugar...the sweetness brushed off...a fine and chilling little fable-like piece, Shay, that shows us the reverse side of one being's pleasure is another being's blood and pain and loss. Memory is not always a blessing.
ReplyDeleteThe repetition of "I have a memory" and then at the last, "I don't like to remember" with all the intervening, spliced imagery acts as a grim counterpoint to the horror that can be couched "under a summer sky, blank as muslin." What an absolutely brilliant image! The whole poem takes my breath away.
ReplyDeleteEverything around is so subtly beautiful yet the screaming ewe makes all the difference. Heartbreaking....
ReplyDeleteNever a pretty business, that. Beauty and the blood.
ReplyDeleteSuch vivid memory expressed beautifully.
ReplyDelete