When we met it was winter.
I hurried myself,
my overwhelming self into her bewildered life.
Maybe it was too languid a place for me.
But I moved her, unsure
toward that greatness that is me,
but should not be me
In April, on Maiden lane
I damned my self on my porch
my heart upon my shoulder, upon her shoulder
I whispered about us.
Knowing she could not
or would not care.
But I had to move her sure.
--Whispered about greatness that is me.
A third week in May.
Our morals covered up as our bodies uncovered.
I traveled with Love’s own heart into her.
Traveled for her fruition. Tripped into her lungs,
tickled them so she would not cry.
--I made my trip.
In summer she broke with me.
She went to Chicago. Went out of me.
Pound it weak by the week,
As I tried to strongly slice my days.
Still, I thought of the greatness
Moving toward the greatness that should be me.
The Tuesday she came to me.
So beautiful to me.
Too beautiful for me.
We ate lunch;
Chewing our words secretly:
Myself, my anxiously exposed self, “No savior in me!”
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Remember; for P
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7 comments:
All i Can say is "Lucky Her"
Dint quite get all the undertones and the subtext, but Loved it nevertheless! :)
What a beautiful tribute, humbly and honestly told, in a somewhat self effacing way, as if to atone for pride. Pride that is well deserved.
I suspect you will be seeing much more of her, and she you.
Love and other gaggy stuff, Lo
(I'm on the pain pills, I am therefore excused for being overly and sickeningly emotional. Who says so? I do.)
And that should have read: What Anjaan said.
And then it should have proceeded as it did. Sheesh, there is no limit to the muddled ness of my mind.
This reads very well. It is very wistful and beautiful.
What a great poem. I love the confidence; how you describe moments filled with trepidation, but you soothe your reader by saying, "don't worry, I'm ok." Until the end, then, you relieve us all, by saying, "hey, I'm human too, I hurt, I'm not perfect."
Oh, don't I wish I knew what her has to say.
It makes me so curious about your next post, as well.
Otherwise, let me say "lovely." My usual.
*I must work on separating the author from the narrator!
Hi Lane
I need a fix of your writing and I came to find one. I read this several times because the soft images are human and so accurate. You write the truth with beauty in such an explicitly open way.
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