O’ Alive
if Alice hadn’t come to a stop somewhere
the bricks that built this house would not
have been possible
I would not have
in a pilled cardigan
and a black sundress
been able to stand up & eulogize my father
in a sharply lit room with dank eyes gawking
arriving in a heat-wave
departing in a deep freeze
stretching toward something new & different
so
I muse on it all lowering myself into a hot bath
the pockets of my bathrobe stuffed with notes
like the Carver poem I read aloud at the archives
rubbles of estimations & notions & wailings
the ache of sore muscles
pangs
of extreme isolation
surreptitious
determinations
in this the blackest
of twilights
if Alice hadn’t come to a stop somewhere
the wilderness might
have eaten me alive
**
I needed to spin my writing wheels a little bit today; I’m
very out of sorts. I pecked at this little piece between crunching numbers and
ringing telephones. I took my time and found a great deal of hidden profundity
in the lines that appeared.
The sun is out. That’s a bonus. Looking forward to comfy
clothes, tea and maybe some time outside, even outside of my head.
In propinquity,
Nic
I don't understand how you are able to spin these gems between phones and number crunching at work. I go in with good intention, knowing that Nic can do it, therefore writing at the office must be possible, and I bomb every time.
ReplyDeleteWhining aside, I really appreciate the imagery in this poem. The overall meaning might be lost on me, but I am hooked on the little details. "Arriving in a heat wave, departing in a deep freeze" - PURE POETRY!!!
Came from a wee place of loneliness, distress, judgement, misunderstandings and in the end, relief.
DeleteSome days if I don't peck, I feel as though I might lose my marbles.