Living is throwing a rock at a car.
Kicking a cat.
Tossing toothpaste and socks in a bag,
grabbing keys and driving
somewhere, no where for a week.
It’s a silent scream
at winter coming before you say it’s OK.
It’s sin that cuts both ways.
Wear a scarf over your blond hair
or someday some creep will scalp you
and hang it from his lodgepole.
And they will praise his name in the hallways.
You will never be safe, yet you must act safe
And never tremble to face the day.
The sun will not shine when you want.
And the rains won't come.
But the sea rolls in
and out again. And you breathe
whenever, wherever you choose.
It’s true. Ask anyone.
10 comments:
That last stanza is so gorgeous, Sharon. It's just breathtaking. And that last line turns the image into an axiom for consideration. A hidden truth that you've named and put in the open.
Have you been writing poetry in secret? Because this is way too good for a first try.
I love the first line as well. It's so grabbing. So declarative. Declarations are things I'm afraid to make in my poetry. I'm going to take another lesson from you and try it.
I love when you visit, James. Thank you. Yes, I write poetry, but it's mostly narrative and some didactic, and Jim was always such a better poet (though I think I can write prose circles around him) that I keep it hidden. As well as I like sound and images more than I understand rhythm. If I get the rhythm right, it's usually only because my voice falls into the exact place for the poem (does that make sense?),and I don't know what to do about that. Are you going to Chicago in Feb?
Well, I enjoyed it Sharon. I love your prose as well. You will always be the person who got me interested in writing prose.
I'll be coming out to visit next semester. You, me and Gillz should all go out to lunch. I'll let you know when as it gets closer.
I'm figuring out if I'm going to Chicago or not yet. Need to see if I can land a job after I graduate.
ma mere c'est magnifique! I read it three times over. I think it's my new favorite poem. I love it. I love it.
Oh. Finely you surface. It's such a treat to hear you talking even if it is across the web.
"and they will praise his name in the hallways"........terrifying. I'm so happy you posted a poem, Sharon. I've been pestering to read your poetry for years now. I literally cannot wait to move to Rexburg to be with you except that I know my girls here will keep me busy until then.
Reading your writing makes me want to be in the same room as you, I don't even mind the snoring. I just need the talking. James, we will DEFINITELY do lunch. Keep us posted.
I love your last two stanzas. It makes me wonder about how much I've been faking it, wearing my mask of bravado and charm when all I really want is to be afraid for a little while.
And then behind that mask maybe I hope that I forget to breathe and then vanish--erase myself completely from everything and just be. But then what? Why?
Anyway, I think this is the first time I've ever commented on this blog.
Hey, IBo, good to hear from you, my Chinese-Canadian-Break Dancer.
If we just "are"--in the present moment--what are we? Who are we?
Why does it feel that you're speaking to me when you write? That seems narcissistic. Though I can't bear the reality that you've had many Writing Assistants and I'm another of the past ones.
I miss you and I feel connected to you through your writing. This poem made me feel braver somehow. Thank you for not hiding your poetic talent anymore. I need it. Are you well? Miss you.
Post a Comment