Heartbreaker
I dreamed the moon, swimming
in a silver bowl. I looked down
spiral steps, along the twist
of the double helix, the nautilus-self, down
the esophagus snake pinkly wavering
into the jungled thorax. I slid myself
between the shadowed ribs
till I stood on the landing
outside the scarlet heart.
I saw it, faintly glowing,
as if night's last candle still burned in
that misshapen domicile of gnomes,
untenanted, abandoned, shedding
the shingles of old scars,
quietly pulsing through the dustspin,
centering the cyclone.
I looked at the dotted door
too small to enter
even when
the lock could find a key.
I looked at the scrawl-crusted walls,
the graffitied initials of old owners
illegible now. Then, with a sigh
deep as indigo,
white as winter air, the bowl
tipped out the moon and I
picked up the axe.
~May 2013
posted for real toads
Kerry's Wednesday Challenge: The Prelude
I am a bit late to Kerry O'Connor's always challenging Wednesday event, where she asked us to write a prelude to a poem as yet, or possibly forever unwritten, a story still to be told. I hope I've come up with one of those.
Image: Born Again, by Remedios Varo
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Yikes. Many beautiful lines and images here - conjunctions - sigh deep as indigo being one of my favorites - and you are definitely at the beginning of something. You have baited our breaths, as it were -- The jungled thorax and the landing of the heart and the key finding lock --all very cool - this is a door I think I'd watch out for (run other way.) k.
ReplyDeleteSo good, it's like cruel candy! a real heartbreaker for this greedy so-and-so hungry for a dish best served cold.
ReplyDeleteso much stands out but I am totally taken by
the shingles of old scars,
quietly pulsing through the dustspin,
centering the cyclone.
in that way a sequence grabs you and attacks a memory or something closer than expected . . .
backing up:
I slid myself
between the shadowed ribs
till I stood on the landing
outside the scarlet heart.
is a direct hit on the same-said brain area.
the ending in context with all that has gone before is a final blow to a sinking ship that loves to drown a little.
woman and children first: I think I'll hang around awhile -
cracking!
...tipped out the moon. What a twist - the axe surprised me but it is so deliciously perfect !!
ReplyDeleteThis poem is amazing. Not only is it filled with color, substance, imagery... the ending is a cliffhanger, and I didn't see it coming. "I picked up the axe..." YIKES! It was all moving along so splendidly and then you lower the boom. A TRUE prelude if ever I saw one. Great write! Amy
ReplyDeleteThis piece serves as an abstract introduction to a tale which promises to be rather dark, even allegorical. Yet it stands as a beautiful work of art, which does not need the remainder of the story as validation. I would say this fulfills the role of a prelude perfectly. I love the inner journey described in the opening stanza - a kind of swallowing up of self in order to discover some hidden truth - a moon in a bowl of water. You tie that up so well in the final movement. I see the axe as instrument of escape - a strike to free the subconscious from the vision.
ReplyDeleteoh dang....the axe closure on this is vicious...what a trip to the interior, your description of the home heart, graffiti-ed walls...its spot on joy...but that close took my breath...
ReplyDeleteOh, and what a prelude this is, hedgewitch. And now I want to travel with you to where the axe leads. Magnificent.
ReplyDeleteYou are a genius with words — and with moods.
ReplyDeleteK
I love your moon in a silver bowl at the beginning and end of this piece. It's such a lyrical, compelling image, and also gives a sense of something powerful and mysterious at a great distance, only reflected, but still precious, at least on its surface. Then the axe...
ReplyDeleteI perused the opus au clair de la Lune
ReplyDeleteWondering if this was written in Rune
The visions and meanings invaded my Head
Asking myself..."What the Deuce have I Read"?
You are such a petit flaneur. And thanks for the eloquent doggerel. (Have you ever had to tear down the old warped deck to build a new one? You know, it's like that.)
DeleteI'll get it someday, thank you for your patience Madame.
ReplyDeleteI love the moon in a bowl too.....and your ending leaves us totally hanging - which is the point of a prelude, which you have executed with pizzazz.
ReplyDeleteI love how you dangled the hidden truth ;D
ReplyDeleteBravo
A different place and time. Love the sigh of indigo. You certainly weave beautiful words together!
ReplyDeleteA great idea and equally great execution, finding the way to one's well used and much abused heart...This prelude certainly is a beginning of...something. The dreamy moon can't illumine all the feelings you've engendered here. I assume you're not about to chop wood. Dark and bright at the same time, it leaves me with a genuine tension and sense of expectation. Marvelously developed and precise as you move through your metaphors.
ReplyDeleteCompelling images come thick and fast here. An exciting poem.
ReplyDelete