siren in a shade of blue

i hold the frame by which
you know
the scratch of my name
       harpy mouthed,
        sewing your rags

i begin to touch
the hurt of your reptilian hands
          but by now my scaly body
holds no warmth.

the pattern is natural,
falling
out of bloom

                           we all
    breathe yellowed out love
through ragged
       animal teeth
prickle under the
           black arches of claws.

you knew something different
once
           a lure of drunken songs
                  finding thousands of your new names.

love is to be the same vehicle
to touch a swirling moon
    and plummet

into a parched earth
as a       mass of ugly unrecognized flesh
haunted by a false eden.

— whitetea, Jan 28, 2009

About This Poem

About the Author

Region, Country: United States, USA

Favorite Poets: Chrystos, Mark Strand, Adrienne Rich, Naomi Shihab Nye, Rachel M. Simon, Donald Justice, Mary Oliver, Nikki Giovanni, Alice Walker, Bukowski, Mary Lambert

Critiques

themoonman

17 years 4 months ago

Whitetea...

it is always good to see you... loved this exploration of yours... took me to dark places that I know are there... shrugging off the real I live to touch it once again... yes... a lingering of realities grasp... Richard

barbsdad2003

17 years 4 months ago

In general rants ...

leave me a bit undersatisfied, as if I ate too much and am sorry to pay the price by way of whichever currency it costs. However---and a huge however!---this one, this write, this piece so particularly well wrought, leaves me just right. As Goldilocks appreciated, I too like my porridge just so. Being my oh-so-present persistently advancing age has allowed me more than enough opportunity to experience love now become hindsight ... and its too often sorrowing/souring aftermath. It's so easy to step in, can be so hard to leave. And so hard to let go the optimisim that was at first present and replace it with painful disillusionment. You've captured the post position here. And thanx, Chuck

Quillsvein1

17 years 4 months ago

this

is my personal favorite kind of poetry: images that are meaningful and yet continue to suggest something else, something more just beyond the "highway". my favorite: " we all breathe yellowed out love through ragged animal teeth prickle under the black arches of claws." you have a touch of a darker wallace stevens here, and yet more free. superb poetry. gb