Between loss and living
Absences wrench, gut, tear, rake. What follows is an infused hollowing out of the senses: A crushing of the heart and a cold deadening of skin. The soul shrinks in its sudden deep freeze.
Plain-dressed, Sentimental walks Sorrow
between gravestones marking memories in the shade of
Daily conversations, easily forgotten
Shadows etch 'goodbye' against the clouds, hung overhead
in danger of being too feminine and forgettable...
But for the Self, the self-mythologizing
Of an ordinary life: musksweat in fear,
reflected in eyes - obnoxious
For lack of incubus, Gunning down poetry for the lack of instinct.
You attempt to suffocate the devil between Earth, fire, sky and
Your tortured heart.
I would wash the salt from your eyes, as I would bathe
Your feet of solemnities flowering urgencies
From gravestones... naturally wet;
Yet there you are, mute in the moonlight -
A lustrous, invented immaculate skeleton
bearing gifts for the dead: Rosewater,
…. Venus Blossoms, crushed in palmoil
and served chilled, in the heat of our afternoons:
noons which shade less after, saying nothing...
The mating of pity and remorse defaults to a perilous
Embrace. Kind intentions avert the widow's gaze;
Falling by decimal scales
in the servings of tea and coffee
Yet for all the pain excruciating,
tearing at the pages of days, torn to shreds by banalities, I cannot
But invade you,
tender-skinned beneath this fatal sun
as the ritual has begun to unfold;
A prayer-mat across our souls: the extravagantly
slow embrace in the coming of love caught
in mid whirl Of a skirt and smile
From beneath a sunhat of straw: Thrown to the laughter of the wind
Across the sea...you reach in your pocket
and smell me in a seashell.
Under my kiss you feel bound to living,
unbridled of an urbane grace, to wild desire
Drinking our beauty at dusk.
Lying in the shadow of rains
I am drawn by a sketch bird against
the breast of horizons, living beneath
the line of earth demarcating
My Mesopotamian paradise.
The fierce naked secrecy, bitten
in the bittersweet kiss of revolving doors, spewing
tangent migrants back Into the thick of things, is harvested by my tongue
like Lightening across a wooden floor: thirst
lacerates the pulse ticking
Against the kitchen wall suicidal on the dot!
And we play house between our death beds
Playplay-pretend….playing dress up.
I hardly catch my breath tripping over
Exhausted hollow dock-ends anchored
In bays of neglect, devouring the pit in my stomach: Once more
Just once more, that I, buried in steel-wool sleeplessness
might be ravaged by the river ages, revealing
The fine tuning of bone, Chinaworn by marvelous flesh.
Then I may write of hearts coloured by crayons waxed
in crime, hell and hollow punishment.
The emergency exits seal themselves across mirrors running
a dry-throated mouse wheel Into the ground
…. books have crushed in my belly
Shaping nuances and antidotes to shame…
Wormed into catharsis the moment I opened my eyes
To a real valley of dolls, wearing Deadpanned expressionisms
Dressed to kill: As if I collected anthologies of –isms
For cocktail parties and gallery openings, In language cuckolded
by arty-farty truisms for the suburbane cull.
To crawl backward into bosom-buddy bravado
Of kiss and tattletale rising tides across a sexual countryside,
Dressed in corduroy and private, pungent conundrums;
That would have Friends peeling off the corners
Of one’s memories
Latent as lily fronds
Afloat on dead water.
Walking into love between
Mangos and silkworms, one could be forgiven for thinking
You an accidental tourist; dropping the tenets of your life
Through the open door.
Feeling your way through bowls of blue leaves
Into aquariums suffused with arum and calla lilies,
You carry God on your back - like intuition coming clean.
Yet you never wondered
What would become of Falling in love with a poet
– The briar patch of blind men
Where bluff is a dead man’s game and Smoke, saddened
meanders upward slowly Seeking solace in the air,
Like an old lover how best to cradle
Its cold death.
And my own.
Causes Renee Sigel Supports
The Grossman Burn Unit