Zebras
(A 55)
Remember
when we were two
trout climbing Sahara sand,
two flamingos wading snow,
two zebras
grazing rock, stalked
by an avalanche of clocks
worse than any lion.
Remember
our nights stitched from
oak's blood and violins
torn from the big cat's teeth.
Come home again
before the door breaks,
before memory's last meal
is gone.
January 2022
posted for dVerse Poets
using words from
Images: Sleeping Zebra, 1959 © Carel Willink Fair Use
Plant Archetecture, 1962 © Remedios Varo
How wonderful to remember such things!
ReplyDeleteThis to me made me think of a relationship were you remember everything that has gone wrong... maybe it is not the best to come back if all you have are such memories.
ReplyDeleteSurreal. The images are unique and vivid. The last lines make me think of someone with dementia.
ReplyDeleteThis must come from your deep store of Dali images! On the surface, it is pure fever dream, but I find it bittersweet and it breaks my heart a little. Every significant relationship has its own landscape and its own flora and fauna. Moreover, they are time-stamped, subject to fire and flood, and so the plea at the end is just so sweet and sad. Gee, it made me feel kind of weepy.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Shay, for getting it. Memory and dreams, wishes and bones, are all time leaves us with it seems.
DeleteReally nice example of surrealism - a theme/form I particularly like..
ReplyDelete"...memory's last meal..." Oh please, say it can't happen.
ReplyDeleteAwesome write.
Joy, it feels to me like a person remembering a toxic relationship but still doesn't want to forget the precious love that was also part of the equation. It brings sadness to me as I read it.
ReplyDelete"Remember
ReplyDeletewhen we were two
trout climbing Sahara sand,
two flamingos wading snow,
two zebras
grazing rock,"
how could we forget. i want to say "i remember all the misfits of this world and what it did to them" that feels like the right response. there is so much longing in this, seems like the very definition fever-dream. that waht i see anyway, very well written joy
That is exactly the right response, phillip. Thanks for letting the poem in.
DeleteThis is exquisitely woven! I especially resonate with; "memory's last meal,".. there is so much that it carries within.
ReplyDeleteI think we all long for that private, shared, world.
ReplyDeleteThis reaches out and touches the heart of memory and longing. What hurts and still somehow soothes at the same time. An amazing 55 Joy!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Carrie.
DeleteIt becomes you Joy to display a bit of your path your youth if you will. I like the travelogue, the pain and pleasures of actually traveling, working not being overly static. My memories are a refuge, perhaps not best expressed in a surreal landscape but none the less vivid in my American realism.
ReplyDeleteThank you Mark. Memories are a good refuge, even the ones that arent perfect.
DeleteLove is ever privileged and rare, and the starry residue of it at the bottom of the last bottle on the highest shelf is its most yearning distillation, the three drops still here in this 55. "Remember" is addressed to both beloved and heart, an invitation to taste and revel and reveal before memory's midnight. The zebras are safe here.
ReplyDeleteThanks B. The pleasures and pains of looking back are those of a connoisseur; many will never bother to seek them, or understand if they do. Yet the longer I live, the more comfort I find there. Glad you liked.
DeleteWOW! This is beautiful. I could see all the animals.......your imagery is just amazing.
ReplyDeleteThe images here are quite something! Like a Dahli painting or what I would imagine his diary to be like!
ReplyDeleteIt's Dali, not Dahli. And the artist used here was the Spanish surrealist Remedios Varo, whose style is totally unique. Thanks for your comment.
DeleteLove the contrasting lines in this lyrical piece!
ReplyDeleteThese images are brilliant, they create a sense of two people at odds with the world, attempting the impossible , very moving and original. jIM
ReplyDeleteThank you Jim. I enjoyed your poem a great deal.
DeleteNot fitting in leaves painful memories.Yet memories are strange things, deserting us when we most need them.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for leaving such wonderful comments on my posts.
My pleasure.
DeleteYour stunning, pared-down, vivid-detailed style strikes again. The eerie surrealism gets me every time. The last two stanzas are especially poignant and heartbreaking. A beautiful write, Joy <3
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sunra. The 55 is a form I always return to.
Delete