this morning
there was another voice
besides the bread talking
to the coffee as it read
new obituaries
about men named ted
who killed their ex-wives
because they bitched
too much about getting
a new oven
and i remembered your last sentence
being:
do you believe in god
and i interrogated the sugar
to find an answer
as the salt snickered
god?
isn’t that the fat white-bearded man
she left milk and cookies for at the end of december
before she rubbed black gloss
like an egyptian ready for
retirement and mummification
her pills standing at attention
even as she exited stage left
to the corner store
shopping for a leafy miracle
or thirty more seconds
for someone to understand
why
she had to
leave
do you believe in god
did you?
when a sleepy river mumbled your name
could you feel his face
in the space
before gravity made you
graceful as a red bird
falling
arms out
to embrace a horizon
that already forgot you
in the ten seconds it took
to erase
everything
but you had to be rebuilt
parts did not work
head too heavy
shoulders clumsy
your body
crumpled artwork
or pie
when its
undercooked
its crust floating
and lapped a
moon white
yet
ash can do many things
especially in the summer
when things turn new again
grapes now grow from your forehead
and your green spine bows
to daffodils teaching them
your hymen hymns
newly sung from legs
spreading over vines and valley
but somehow still
touching
water’s edge
their blue reeds
echoing
hey
cuz
do you believe in god
do you
believe
i nod
like a bridge
whose wire eyes
watch stars pale
over and over
but know
they will
still
rise
Author notes
I would like to credit Puking Faerie Dust for the title and the words 'hymen hymns'.
...and as always...for teresa.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I love the rhythm of the poem towards the end. The transition to the final line, "rise" is goregeous. The middle of the poem from "but you had to be rebuilt
parts..." to "moon white" seemed out of place for me as I was reading it. But I might need to read it again.
Naturally I was drawn to the poem by the title. I love the "do you believe." Instinctually I thought of Cher & I wonder if that was intended or not.
Explain to me the inspiration of "rubbed black gloss." I am really curious about how that description came about because paired with the lines about an Egyptian evoke that glamour of the Egyptian days of Cleopatra and Nefetiti in my mind.
I am glad I am reading your work again.
Be well.
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hey my lovely miz z...
Thank you so much for leaving your little prints over my small poems. 
They are always such a delight and so very appreciated. And yes, the black gloss reference was meant to evoke the old majesty and tragedies of the old world...but also it was used in reference to the darkness hidden in my cousin's heart and mind. She was also kinda gothy when she was younger and I always remember her having heavily lined eyes and it just jumped at me, the image of her when she was a teenager and how she might have looked that dark night in march. And it's funny that you mentioned Cher for the believe line. LOL Yeah, I guess you could say it might have been inspired by that song, lol. But actually, that line was inspired by Flyleaf's Cassie...you should so check it out...love that song really.
Anyhoo, thank you so much again...be well, sweet poet, and by any time.
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Amazing, and what a sweet dedication. Thank you for entering the contest, good luck.
♥
whisper
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jeez, what a kick ass ending...what a kick ass poem...I nod like a bridge..I love that stanza...you are soooooo talented & such an excellent writer, excellent poetry, every stanza...congrats on the silver
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Excellent! Congratulations!
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Thank you!!
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this poem is why you were invited. Superb. Love, Lane
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Thank you...for both the comment and the invite. I was delighted to be honored in such a way.
You are far too lovely...
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There is always another voice isn't there.
Yours speaks quiet, but strong. Haven't read you before, but being a fav of Lane's I shouldn't be surprised at your prowess with a pen, or 'keyboard.
Well written.
Buddy
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Very cool.
Best of luck.
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forgot the applause
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Boffo!
It's so exciting to encounter a poem that hasn't been written before.
i love this to pieces and I think I'll just read it again. And maybe come back later, too.
Particularly appreciate the story content, the existence of one. Best place to start, a story.
Tom -
WOO HOO! I finished my last exam so I am FINALLY here to play catch up I must say, you have bought me well and truly out of my financial frame of mind! Your first stanza is dowright amazing. I love how you turned the act of eating breakfast, which is almost mundane, into something a little sinister. HEH HEH! That's the thing about your poetry - every sentence props my eyes wide open, but I can never bat an eyelid, just keep drinking it in.
Loved this
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its poets like you who slap me awake, and pull my head out of the sand, and force me to be better
I loved this, oh so very much.
thank you, for pulling the sleep from my eyes
~ Meg
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I'll be sure to check out both of the young poets you recommend.
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Absolutely excellent!!! A pure pleasure to peruse your poetry not once but twice. Anything else I may add would be superfluos. Kudos.
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The beginning reference to Sylvia Plath... fucking GAHH! You're too brilliant for your own good, ya know.
Everything was set perfectly and there's not one thing I don't like about it. Even though it's only two words, the little break of "hey cuz" made me sad for some reason. I can imagine you saying it like she was still.. well ya know. Pure beauty and perfection, m'dear.
Jeanette*~
P.S. Good luck in teh contest
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This is simply an amazing write, I rarely leave comments as I don't have much time to spend on the internet and leaving comments takes away from the time I have, but this one demands recognition and I can't leave without making sure it gets the attention it deserves. I can't imagine anyone reading this piece and not taking away something from it. I think you hit every emotion within this piece and every point of life as well. Your rhythm within it was perfectly pivoted with breaks well thought out to bring each individual driving force to their own climatic moment before moving to the next. If there was a standing ovation button, I would be hitting it right now. Bravo to you on this one! Best of luck in the contest, you certainly should be considered a contender in my opinion. Again, good luck!
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Different but well done. Your spacing gave this a kick and it all flowed well. I enjoyed this write very much. Pen on...
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this is...awesomes...the title is really what caught my eye...
i enjoyed reading it...good luck in your contest ^_^
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do you?
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for her...yes...
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It makes you want to go out and grab someone off the street and read it to them, just so you can get the pleasure of reading it out loud, to watch their face change from puzzled to confused and then to the recognition they just heard something brilliant though they didn't know it. Love, C
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grapes now grow from your forehead
and your green spine bows
to daffodils teaching them
your hymen hymns
newly sung from legs
spreading over vines and valley
but somehow still
touching
water’s edge
ok, so i know i copied a lot, but i couldn't stop. you know how i feel about teresa darcy, and reading this just filled me with not necessarily sadness, just a sense of regret that I didn't get to know her like you did, or at all. you captured really personal images in this, like always, but polished them until they were blindingly beautiful.
and this...
'and i remembered your last sentence
being:
do you believe in god
and i interrogated the sugar
to find an answer'
i mean, c'mon darce....are you trying to make me look like a pussy over here?
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You? A pussy?? Maybe pussy CAT!
And you know, I half-suspect that had she stayed around long enough to really grow into her poetic voice, I have a feeling it would've been something that yours...with bold imagery, intense wording and stuffed with such exquisite emotion it could make devils or angels sob.
...yes...you do remind me of her very much...and I thank you for that...
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I'm too dense to understand half of it.. sorry!! I really liked it though.. the imagery was really wonderful and it flowed really well to!! it's just me.. I sometimes don't get what I read
sorry! not your fualt! mine!! lol. I just need to stop drinking so much soda me thinks best of luck though!!
Angel
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For her,
and those others. This tore through me like the softest of thunderstorms.
"hey
cuz
do you believe in god
do you
believe"
That break, that shift, that knits these endings/begginings, the births, deaths, and blooming, was so spot-on. I knew I would find great reading here, and I have.
As a whole - perfect! This is one of those reads that makes me feel like a wide-eyed beginner, challenged to write up to this.
Peace, r
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You are too good to me, kind sir...
And always know that you are one of those rare rare lights that keep AP glowing for my moth who seeks such exquisite warmth and brightness.
wuv you.
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jeanette is fantastic at titles, isn't she? i could've sworn it sounded like something she'd write, and then lo and behold the author's notes
those final two stanzas are gods.
amen.
-hiraeth
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Interesting, orginal, creative... and I'm too dense to understand more than 80%
. I love the imagery and flow but sometimes, the meaning escapes me... Sorry, the failures mine - not yours... All the best...
Ken
(Lane's smarter than me, she'll get it)
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interesting..original
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This has a lot of edging, and I especially like all the repetition in places, which I thinks adds to the poem. As a writer your strength is you, a lot like sylvia, of course. You are the writing. You live the writing and that is how it should be, if nothing else. "she left milk and cookies for at the end of december
before she rubbed black gloss
like an egyptian ready for
retirement and mummification"
- Glorious observation. There are a lot of little nuances in this poem, little ideas held in a bigger out look, and metaphors that makes the poem feel, free. Again, I think critique wise this is one of those pieces that needs breathing room. So, I will be silent and say that you are the person who writes blood. Who shows glass in the womb.
;
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Wow. Different. But I absolutely loved it...it was a pleasant read, and it flowed so well. A pleasant break from the monotony of the poetry I usually read. Brava.
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merci beaucoup cherie...i grant you the title of Muse.
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Then I am greatly honored by the title.
Xie xie nin.
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You wear these garish words like a mandala around your neck, owning them before they even realized they've been manifested in poetry form. Grapes growing out of her forehead?! Ahh, just brilliant.
Just posted a similarly-messaged piece...but you, you've aced it.
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