The Nag
I try to smile at the morning,
even tho it shambles in
unsure of what to do with itself and
wants advice. "You're all
the same, " I mutter.
Then you come the way you do,
pulling my hair.
"Look at me, look at me,"you say,
even tho you never see a thing
except what isn't there.
"Do this, do that!" I pry
your centipede legs
off my neck, hundreds of them, each
one shoe'ed
with crawling demand.
Talk to me," you insist,
adjusting
your face in the mirror,
deaf as a blue-eyed white cat.
Explosions and tremors
make your bed. Rage
and misunderstanding
call you mother.
Peace will
never know you.
"I am the goat," I say
"who walks alone,"
and turn to ask
the morning
what I can do.
April 2022
posted for dVerse Poets
Images: The Smiling Spider, 1891, © Odilon Redon Public Domain
‘Soulmate’ © Księżycolica, via internet Fair Use
Extraordinary piece...one that will give me no peace for a little while....about that space in the morning when one challenges and is challenged by existence...you put that angst right there, were it is felt, on the neck...the dialogue is in the vein of Master and Margerita..
ReplyDeleteI love that book,and consider that a high compliment, Ain. Thank you so much for taking the time to read in the middle of the hell where you are.
Delete"Shambles in" ~~~~ as Ain comments, this is an extraordinary piece. The words I quoted back set the tone of the poem (for me) perfectly.
ReplyDeleteWell, I absolutely LOVE this - the morning shambling in, "you're all the same" (too true!), "deaf as a blue eyed white cat", and "I am the goat who walks alone." Just wonderful. My new fave.
ReplyDeleteIt is and amazing collection of images for the morning. Yes, I like the link to the Master and Margarita too. Both with extraordinary and startling images.
ReplyDeleteThose first two stanzas really grabbed my attention.
ReplyDeleteAnother unanswerable question...aren't they all these days? This sounds a bit more like my nights lately than my mornings. I have coffee in the mornings but I have little peace at night.
ReplyDeleteMaybe I am misreading badly, but it seems to me that the "you" of the poem is not the morning. The morning seems more "unsure", it "shambles", while the "you" of the poem is demanding, strident, oblivious, tone deaf. By comparison,--still, as I read--the morning is far less burdensome and in the end, the speaker turns her attention to the lesser of two-if not evils--options. Finally, the goat is a Cappy Goat, clearly, but i hope she finds some clover in the end.
ReplyDeleteThis felt like holding up a mirror to one's face and not liking it. The fifth part about rage and peace are outstanding lines - food for thought. Thanks for joining in.
ReplyDeleteI can’t help wonder if all night owls hoot bellicose at the unwelcome arrival of first light and its creepy-crawly crepitude and criminal demands. “’Look at me, look at me,’ you say, / even tho you never see a thing / except what isn’t there.’” Sounds like the Snow Man’s evil twin, the Satan of rosy dawns. I mean, who wants to wake to *this*? The goat of the final stanza is a bit of a mystery — a monkey for the organ grinder? — but wake we must and do, and are complicit. A goat’s head for the soup.
ReplyDeleteThanks, B. Yes, I'm trying perhaps to get more mileage than the word should bear, what with playing the goat, being the scapegoat, the monkey the organ grinder needs to get that coin his music won't bring...also of course, Capricorn. "Satan of rosy dawns" just about says it all. Let me at least have my coffee before you bring it, world. ;)
DeleteA swirl of a poem, Joy. The meaning is all in the title, is it not? I see it as a poem about a relationship. Intriguing and skilful as always...JIM
ReplyDeleteit's a battle of wills... man vs the daily routine, and it's an epic battle.
ReplyDeleteThen you come the way you do,
pulling my hair.
"Look at me, look at me,"you say,
even tho you never see a thing
except what isn't there.
the morning prying our eyes open. and if it were to just to serve ourselves and those we care about, that would be fine, but so much of our day is to serve someone else, and centipede of someone elses... what a nag. enjoyed this very much joy
Yep. Thanks for getting it Phillip, and taking the time to stop by. It's good to be able to read you again for me as well.
DeleteThe way you describe the morning with all it's demands seems almost like a diversion to me. The reference to the goat made me think of the devil, and as Ain says it made me think of the Master and Margarita (or maybe Dr. Faustus). So very original in your own unique way.
ReplyDeleteI am not a morning person so every day I feel morning sets out to nag me. Extraordinary writing.
ReplyDeleteI could *see* each stanza - making the centipedes and then the turning goat that much more impactful. Now I wonder how I will greet the morrow - or rather, how it will greet me ~
ReplyDeleteOh, I just love this. It reminds me of a gothic children's story except you're looking for comfort that isn't there. It also gave me a lot of Nightmare Before Christmas vibes. Not to mention made me think of Louise Bourgeouis' huge spider sculptures (which I love and she is one of my favourite artists). But there's always so much beauty in your storytelling. I love this line:
ReplyDelete"...Rage
and misunderstanding
call you mother."
The fact that they are seeking a mother and find her in the Nag is somehow so endearing.
<3