For love or the reminder of

How shall I describe her?

She is feral

one day her ego fills the room like helium

all the plates and cups and saucers wobble

for the enlargement of her radiance

and the next

you will see barely

the skeleton of her tail

slow wagging behind oven

when she goes out, she leaves behind two cut out dolls

wearing their paper clothes, she walks stiffly ahead

not looking back

where they war with each other

one is sad, one is trying to get better

at night when she cannot sleep

june bugs die against her glass

fireflies remind her magic is not

solely the terrain of the insane

when she has nothing on but the scars of her walk

and waist deep in meadow grass

she finds fragments of who she once was

perching for dew on the tip of a thought

she is like the cactus flower

blooming wide and with the accordian of a flaring skirt

only to whither and dry, come first day of summer

once, when a man stroked her fur

she thought she could purr

but his bite left a mark with a scar

that did not heal over

instead she roared

against the shells in her ears

for the salvage of the sea

and a hundred thousand waves

to bury her need

for love or the reminder of

staining like a coffee cup

will leave its inked imprint upon

our best intention

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27 thoughts on “For love or the reminder of

  1. This is appropriately titled, especially because of these lines: “at night when she cannot sleep

    june bugs die against her glass

    fireflies remind her magic is not

    solely the terrain of the insane

    when she has nothing on but the scars of her walk

    and waist deep in meadow grass

    she finds fragments of who she once was”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Love the juxtaposition of imagery in the opening and the stunning use of figurative language. Between what is said and unsaid we find the ebb and flow of emotion that love and love loss brings. Your writing always leaves in in awe.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I’m totally enthralled with this poem, your character visions are superb,
    “and waist deep in meadow grass
    she finds fragments of who she once was
    perching for dew on the tip of a thought”

    Liked by 1 person

  4. ”when she goes out, she leaves behind two cut out dolls
    wearing their paper clothes, she walks stiffly ahead
    not looking back
    where they war with each other
    one is sad, one is trying to get better”

    …”instead she roared
    against the shells in her ears
    for the salvage of the sea”

    (the cochlea swell of a sea-shell…)

    ad then that war within …

    yes darling, describe her like that.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I think we spur each other somehow. I like that. You have always encouraged me in my writing, but you’ve also inspired me immensely in that regard, which is so rare, and necessary for my growth. We already write together… 😉

        Like

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