Sunday, May 5, 2024

Pig and farm report

 In the season of lilacs and drunk magnolias


at night my teeth transmit the truth of small
emperors and exploded planets a song
that was popular the year we walked
to the carnival in Coeur d’Alene and gnats
swarmed my cotton candy you boiler of cabbage
you cap sleeper you stunted slump a week later
laminaria expanded my awful circle
a briny memory tincture that ached for years
shoved me backward down the moss covered
boat ramp the dog I loved whose great tongue
smelled like a deep placid lake the old
doctor said he put a seashell inside me
it was spiky and spined but it prized the little
bomb out on the way home I wrecked your car
music is violence and tissue memory lands
my fingers in the right place or evening prim
rose do you think it’s easy now I séance my gods
I am not halved or quartered simply a seed
I carry will I ever stop standing between
doors one opens and a soprano sings the Queen
of the Night aria slams shut and another scorches
my eyes with electricity and now without prayer
or platitudes like a piano exposing its tender guts
on the street straining and moaning roiling inside



Blogger Ms. Moon said...

Oh, Rebecca.
Well, there goes my mind for the day. Such cruel beauty here.

May 6, 2024 at 7:04 AM  
Blogger Rebecca said...

Oh that dog's tongue! This is almost too much IS too much to take in just now. I must return to it. I just woke up. But what a beauty! So glad you're back.

May 7, 2024 at 3:32 AM  
Blogger 37paddington said...

Darling Rebecca, I came by to say that I am reading here, but cannot formulate a thought about your complex and deeply affecting poetic imagery in this moment, I cannot right now pick apart what it provokes in me, the feelings collide with an explosion of other feelings I am struggling to manage, but my lack of commenting is not a lack of love for you, and also for your extraordinary word art.

May 18, 2024 at 9:05 AM  

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