Saturday, May 3, 2014

Medicine Sky



Medicine Sky




After
the explosion
I found 
pieces of you
in all my poems,

embedded shrapnel,
unclean words,
full of fever's fester.

I scrubbed the wounds, 
massaged the scars,
repeating,

autumn is a doctor, 
winter is a nurse,
night's blue sky body
arches over
the surgery of the gods,

poppy-soft, ocean-deep, capable
of illuminating
even
your lies.




~October 2013, 
revised May 2014







posted for     real toads
Mini-Challenge :Flash Fiction 55
The odyssey of the Flash Fiction 55, so long under the gracious guidance of the G-man, continues on at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, where the incomparable Fireblossom alternates with the eloquently terse Mama Zen to preside over our journey into brevity. Please come play with us in the new locale.








Image: The Eqyptian goddess of the sky, Nut
Public domain via wikimedia commons




31 comments:

  1. Awww! I adore that first stanza. What a memorable poem this is - filled with so much the heart seldom finds the words to say.

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  2. So much that goes straight into poems of pain... I really liked the nurse and doctor.. but I'm left to hope for the healer of spring.. so those lies can be washed away and wither..

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  3. Love. Medicine sky is the only healer of shrapnel's feverish wounds, and only if allowed the full turn of the seasons. The structure of this poem allows it to sink in like the healing itself.

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  4. great opening line...in the after they appear in all our poems for sure...
    and clean & heal & still the scars remain to remind us...even time and seasons
    only bleach them, yet still they pucker.

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  5. Such destruction and pain at the beginning. Then the end provides the perfect healing. Rebirth after death by deception. Awesome.

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  6. Hey Joy, particularly great opening here and one senses that the healing is In the revealing. But. I keep am stuck with the embedded pieces in the poems . I think of early Julian schnabel paintings-- probably spelling name wrong-- in which he embedded crockery bits in the canvas. I like your trope better. K .

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    1. Thanks k--fortunately I had the draft for thisor I would have been up a creek--my brain is still a bit crispy, I'm afraid. I googled Schnabel(correct on the spelling)--some weird stuff, but interesting--odd how the shapes of the plates, however broken, seem to remain always implied circles, even as fragments.

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    2. Maybe weird ones come up and he is an egomaniac so make no comparisons to you truly but I remember some striking things when he was young. I am curious myself now . They probably were circles. K .

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  7. I also love the first stanza. If the challenge had been for a dozen words, these would have done the job perfectly. However, I also love "puppy-soft, ocean-deep" and wouldn't have wanted to miss those four (or two, hyphenated) words.
    From
    a delighted fan

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  8. An excellent poem, engaging and some wonderfully vivid images, very well done.

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  9. This is potent...each portion is packed with punch...Wow from me Hedge...Love the image you have here and the part in the poem that refers to it...

    "night's blue sky body
    arches over
    the surgery of the gods,"

    love that!

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  10. Simply blown away. because it is excellent. And, as ever, I can take it and fit it right in to my own life. Sometimes the things that you say are so uncannily connected in timing and relevance to my roller ride that I choke on my predawn hot chocolate as I write. Well, "cheers!" to you Hedge. Now I type with inspiration and confidence because your station is heavy with it all. Thank you:

    After
    the explosion
    I found
    pieces of you
    in all my poems

    best :)

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  11. we all wait for the outburst...then there's night's blue sky body.. inspiring lines

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  12. Wow! This really moved me! Beautifully constructed! Great write!

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  13. You were going along, fine, fine, and then those last two stanzas. WHAM! and Fireblossom hits the mat. This Poetry Hair-Pulling round goes to Hedgewitch!

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  14. PS--that picture is incredible.

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  15. The opening stands out as so instantly recognizably true and brilliant. We keep telling the story, writing it from every angle until we get the clarity we need.

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  16. sharp tongued. I see stars: shrapnel stars, word stars, fever blisters. this short piece explodes. If I were given the choice to be a deity-for-a day, I may choose Nut, barrier between chaos and order, protector of the dead. I esp. love "arches over/ the surgery of the gods"

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  17. If only we could scrub wounds, massage scars ... make it go away. Awesome as always, Ms. Hedge.

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  18. Am I correct in linking this poem, with the scattered pieces, to the Osiris myth? I wouldn't have thought of that without the Egyptian graphic. This is sharp, incisive and filled with great lines, most notably for me the last four, where the universal is whittled down to the personal. Such a feeling of completeness in this compact gem!
    Steve K.

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    1. I hadn't thought of it, but you know, that may be why this picture came into my mind when I was editing (when I put in the arching part) I find that doing the pics is always part of the poem any more, so I'm thinking you may be right. Thanks for the kind words, and for reading, Steve,

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  19. yeah that first stanza is killer. for sure.

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  20. I also love that first stanza, but I also love how you ended it. Great 55!

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  21. well, if that's crispy brain at work, we all should be so fried. that initial verse... and I should be asleep but, well ~

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  22. This like reading myth, so archetypical...and yet so fitting on an individual lever. The opening stanza is an explosion, and caused an explosion in my brain. And then, "autumn is a doctor/ winter is a nurse..." Really outstanding Joy.

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  23. Surely without the mysteries, our histories would sink us ... first two stanzas (so stellar) properly names the source of wounding (the shattered mirror of Thou in I) and then submits to the poetics of revision, the rinsing and calcifying and whitening operations that eventually yield the blueing silver of myth. Our tears were shed long ago by vast eyes, and that vision I think saves us from the poisoned personal. Or can, within the arches of the poem. Why is it my comments always go 110 to your 55?

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    1. I believe I do the same to you, B. That's okay--sometimes terseness is overrated. Thanks for reading.

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  24. I hope Spring is a wonderful doctor, nurse and that you are doing okay. k.

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    1. I think Spring is making me need a doctor and nurse. ;_) I have been out in the garden trying to get everything squared away before it gets hot(94 today)--we do have a nice early spring here, but some years it goes straight into summer, and if the drought doesn't break we are in for another really hot, triple-digits-for-months one. So I'm installing soaker hoses to save water and mulching copiously. I 'd like to get my hands on the idiot who made all these flowerbeds! ;_) Thanks for checking in, k, and hope your work and week are going well.

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    2. Well it actually sounds sort of fun other than the drought. I am unfortunately back on the train to DC due to a health issue of extended family member. Glad that I can go but, of course, not what one would want. K.

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  25. Oh, man, this hit home. So beautifully written, so universal. Kudos!

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg