Tag Archives: marriage

and you thought i left the country

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Well, here I am. And here is a new poem! Shhh! It’s a poem-a-day for the rest of your life challenge with my partner in crime, Carolee. Don’t tell anyone about the madness!

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Cinderella After the Final Ball

It was the day after the wedding.
The dress was on the floor
mice making nests in its folds.
She rose from the bed,
sweet box of nothing,
foraged through silk and sequins
and slipped into her gown of horrors.

Infant rodents suckled
at her breast, their tiny teeth
sharp reminders of what she had done.

Somehwere she had heard
wearing an ugly pair of underwear
could ruin her entire day.
She reached for last night’s filthy lace,
dressed for her life.

Mother mouse lost interest
crawled up and down the bride’s torso–
miniature dressmaker inspecting her work.

It is the smallest steps that carry you
out the door and into the world,
the drag of your train that will catch you
on the threshold, hold you prisoner
until you finally bend, grab the head
release the tack that binds you.

NaPoWriMo #1

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The A to Zs of Marriage

As the bride took wing and ascended the altar, the congregation licked
amens from astonished lips–
……….(bride being a relative term for bored with the way things became).

Crows gathered on the court house steps, the males spreading
charcoal wings to their full length.
……….(Dearly beloved).

Ease into the gown one wing at a time.
Fire of pine boughs in a crumbling fireplace: your honeymoon.
……….(Gather dirt and needles to douse the flames on your own time).

However the fire burns hottest, mark your time, then jump into the blues.
Inflorescence being the one trick your magician never taught you,
……….June bugs are sure to invade your dark body.

Kitchen utensils on a rope around your neck: (check).
Lost, leftover, you wander from tree to tree, looking for a way past the trunk.
……….Maybe you might to read it in the crotch of branches, the spider web of your fate.

Not fond of mowing, one wife grew her grass in cursive love notes (never sent).
Only the postman knows the address
……….(pretend you are wearing clothes when you open the door
……….politely tell him he has the wrong house, wrong woman, wrong package).

Queen for a day and not a crown in sight.
Ringmaster, Ringmaster, lend me your top hat
……….(send the clowns after the curtains are closed).

To discover why you want what you want, walk the aisles of the supermarket until
truth (or your lover’s name) floats off soup cans like skywriting.
……….(Understanding the how-to of why you is not as easy as you might think).

Visions of skin-tight vines wrapping his throat will help you sleep.
Why the bald eagle mates for life is a mystery to scientists, a secret the wife will never reveal.
……….Xylophones are the only wedding present a bride really needs. At least three.

Yellow forsythia on the door knob is a sign: blooming in progress. Do not enter.
Zinnias tangled in your hair are a whole other matter
……….(and when you choose to begin again, remember to ask your flesh how the

bones of the dress dug into your sides).
blood and bone, the flesh support structures–that’s what is missing.
……….Corsets, in the end, only fit comfortably on women of leisure. You move, wife, you lose.

 

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These are the 30 lines from my FaBoStaMe 30-status updates in 30 minutes exercise.  I edited a bit and played with form. 

At the Onset of Hibernation, the Bees Begin to Speak

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She holds the honeycomb in her hands
weeps for the bees
their (mis)fortune pours
like watered honey from all her hollows.

……………To have your home torn from its moorings (joy)
……………talons at the foundation–
……………evolution’s sweet buzz
……………………..to begin again.

 

She sews papery wings to her shoulder blades
hovers beneath the eaves
awkward angel

………………….bleeding on the gardener’s bald head.
………..Who will rule the family now?

………………………..What value in a stinger dulled
………………………..by smoke–cobweb of ache sticky, invisible
………………………..the thin air it swings by ……….stinking of burn.

As the second hand sweeps
its apex—again, again—she rips
hives from rafters
gray ghosts…………..nursemaids bloated bellies
whole kingdoms without their queens.

She holds nothing in her hands
weeps for the beauty.

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After having written nothing for many days, I was inspired by this painting by Carrie Ann Baade. Let’s hope this is a trend in the right direction.