Holy crap, 101 posts.
I don't like this one as much, but it's all that's new apart from the poetry challenge.
I have ceased looking for myself
in your body
I have ceased because
I do not see your hands anymore,
only roots pinned at the metacarpal
by broken nails;
and because
I do not taste you anymore,
only spit out
the mist of rot that comes
from the porcelain
of your side.
you may write to me
that you are here
in the crossing of the lattimus,
nestled in the curl of my feet,
that I may cease
to find mourning
in the eloquence of blood--
I will never find myself
pinned to your breast,
striking sparks from your hair
falling like dew
onto your skin
unless it is to
find your ear
and whisper
that I am leaving.
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1 comment:
Mixed feelings about this but overall I give it a thumbs up and say I like it! I like the beginning and LOVE the last two stanzas, but I found the middle a little...hm, just not the usual Bernard poetic kick? The third stanza bothered me for some reason. Maybe because there's such a focus on the mouth with spitting and tasting that when it mentions "the porcelain /of your side" it threw my mental image. But, in contrast, the last two stanzas had an absolutely wonderful mental image and they make me want to say I love the poem completely because that's the feeling I'm left with. However I really would work on the beginning to make it a GREAT poem, because I do think it has potential.
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