I haven't been sleeping.
Too many nights splayed out on the bedroom floor with my severed tongue in my hands
or my fingers between my thighs,
the curtains open and all of concrete suburbia
probably looking in.
I haven't owned a mattress in years,
and for many months
James and I slept on top of rotting beige carpet and electric blue tarps,
broken sleeping bags with zippers
we never dreamed of fixing.
On the side of a highway in Wisconsin,
where we had pulled over to snap disposable camera photos of abandoned buildings
collapsing under the pressure of their own age,
he first told me he loved me;
I didn't know what to say,
and that night we slept curled into each other
like the Escher painting that hung in my mother's bedroom
some two thousand miles away.
Sunburnt in North Dakota, I was crying on a park bench
when he told me
his mother had cancer.
He hadn't spoken to her in years--
He didn't remember what her skin smelt like
or even if her eyes were dark like his.
I cried for him
because he didn't know how to cry then,
and outside of a rest stop in southern Montana I gave him my hand,
promised whatever I could,
and that night
we slept naked
under frigid, ice-white stars.
The cancer is eating through and he may need me more
but we frighten each other just as much,
and we sleep in separate places now.
Two a.m. and I'm staring at the off-white walls,
the broken window,
a forgotten pair of shoes,
remembering the Margaret Atwood poem
he left crumpled
in the bottom of my purse.
Author notes
A fantastic contest. A sleepy entry.
Can I edit this? I might yet.
A contest entry
- Controlled Vomiting: Can you puke beautifully? by onerios13.
1400 points, ended August 17, 2008, 24 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
It is obvious I have not been sleeping.
Comments
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I love the feelings evoked in the opening stanzas. I think the lines could be cleaned up, but the intensity is there. Words like "probably" always denote a sense of uncertainty. I like straight action... "all of concrete suburbia look in". etc. Say it like it's happening verses like IF it were to happen.
I also really enjoyed how you go from mattress talk to the highway of Wisconsin. It seems out of place at first, but really works in the context of the piece. I like stories that seem to jump around a bit. And that's what this is... a story, that I'm involved in, because it's real and raw. Again, I'm not sure it's as clean as it could be, but you've certainly captured the emotional essence of the contest. Thanks for entering -
I do think some filler words could go here and there, but really, the form and the stanza choices add a beautiful sense of hesitation throughout. I loved the "he didn't remember" stanza, that was wonderfully poetic. A lot of this just aches like it is turning itself inside out and becoming, more than words, more than poetry. I'd have to say this is almost prose...but it is on the verge of being poetry again also. A lot of good lines in this one. I hope you are alright. I know you are on rarely but I thought of you today and I'm sending you a metaphoric hug.
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I don't think this is sleepy at all. I want you to know how poignant and touching I found it. The way you use words to create atmosphere is rare and beautiful. I was genuinely moved by it, thank you.
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