Sunday, May 3, 2020

Camellia








Camellia


"...And a breath of lemon filled the vast moment/as the wind became a flower of gauze..."
~from Nocturnes from the Window, by Federico Garcia Lorca



I am behind the wall now
wearing red and a window.
I will be safe
if you see through me
only white sky, the almond tree
and grass.

I wore the mask til blood
stained through
the sting of a flower; it
told too much with its 
sibilant drip. That 
was not safe.

I am a camellia from
snow country, cut
at the stem, dying in aqua vitae,
a fragrance passing citrus
through your room. I will be safe
when the last petals
cover my cast off mask.


May 2020









posted for The Sunday Muse

I have also used several words from Kerry O'Connor's
















Images: A Distant Future, © Raluca Caragea   Fair Use
Yellow Roses in a Vase, 1882, by Gustave Caillebotte, manipulated    Public Domain


11 comments:

  1. I feel reserved stillness in your poem ... as well as lurking danger. Beautiful write. Stay safe .....

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  2. This poem is absolutely gorgeous. Every perfect word.

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  3. To be alive is to be in danger in some way, I think. And so, that leaves only one safety we can achieve. The trick may be--while tricking the eye and stopping as much drip as possible--the be beautiful even in our temporariness, and even in our departing. Can it be done? I think Lorca would say "si" and he would know.

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  4. The bittersweet stillness of life. This is utterly lovely even in its reminder of all that must end. Breathtaking poetry Joy!

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  5. A beautiful write. I like the image created by the last lines.

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  6. Just playing around the mask can reveal that wonderful trait in your beautiful language mastery, Joy! How's the going Ma'am, stay safe!

    Hank

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  7. Oh! So much great writing here. "wearing red and a window." -- amazing.
    "I wore the mask til blood
    stained through
    the sting of a flower" -- also amazing!

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  8. Great words - beautiful with a hint of ...

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  9. I think this is wonderful. A totally immersive read, I felt like I was the woman in the painting/poem 'wearing red and a window'.. What a brilliant imagining, Joy.

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  10. there is a certain finality in the last 3 lines that calls from the earth. or the grave, which, I suppose, might be the same ~

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"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats