she reads her dreams
like sheep kidneys thrown across the floor.
she thinks her head
is a nativity; she loves every moment
of it and knows
it's hers for a little while.
the machine-font,
the alphabet baby blocks of her hair
reveal her desire.
she wants a man
freaking huge. after all,
there's a whole basket of herself.
and she wants a thick champion
whose jeans she could never wear
and she likes trouble.
there are no mathematics on her shirt,
no lacy lingerie straps around her eyes;
her doubts prick
in the cold thoughtfulness
of Having Lived For Forty Years Already.
she paints Las Vegas on her nails
and forgets her dreams
(she's got plenty)
impulsively.
she knows she's got a polar opposite.
who doesn't?
but the thought, to her, is a heavy hand
stuck on a table.
and she doesn't pry one finger loose.
Author notes
I had to write this in order to realize what THIS MAN is not. : http://rain1man.deviantart.com/art/Young-man-65697839
"The mask reveals the man."
Comments
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I was reading this and thinking, wow, this is good! and then I got to "the machine-font, / the alphabet baby blocks of her hair" and -- was just speechless. & then the poem kept getting better; I love the portrait you've painted here. together with the picture, it's a really complex poem; they work well with each other [he does seem rather like he'd be her opposite].
I also adored the ending:
"but the thought, to her, is a heavy hand
stuck on a table.
and she doesn't pry one finger loose."
I love that you portrayed her emotions so clearly without actually saying anything.
simply amazing poem, and good luck!
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That poem is amazing but a little creepy when it gets to the kidney part. Good job
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Interesting twist on the Oscar Wilde concept as set forth by Bono--fascinating mental gymnastics, like turning something inside out and then flipping it from left to right.
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