Poetry For Our Time

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason. -Novalis

Of course I would be the first one to do this late

with one comment

So rough start figuring out the WordPress, but all good now! Just a quick bio first for those who don’t know me: I started writing ever since I filled up a Hello Kitty notebook with pre-K drivel, and it only got more involved from there, getting into slam poetry in high school and then immersing myself in new forms of writing in college (at good ‘ol IWU with Molly and Ashley and the infamous Michael Theune). For the past two years I’ve been living in New York, working first at Smithsonian magazine where the most I wrote was a letter to our advertisers about what to expect in the upcoming issue, and started moonlighting as a freelancer at Galley Cat on mediabistro.com where I would cover book parties, and BreakUpGirl.net where I would spout out about feminist issues. In September I started working for an arts and entertainment venue as a publicist where I write press releases and get my journalist friends to cover our events. I also keep a blog about domestic and feminist issues at http://www.undomesticgoddess.net. Oh, and I haven’t written poetry since college. Let’s have a go! This first one is “inspired” as they say from The Reader, which I saw last night, and which you all should see.
****************************

It started on a train, and ended on a tram, with bicycles in between
We were always in motion, wheels turning
I was not ashamed
Choosing afternoons in the corners of your apartment instead of the bright giggles of the lake
The furrows of your forehead
The smooth pocket of curve between hip and rib that I pressed against with my virgin lips
You took care of me like a mother
But oh, you were not my mother.

You, ironing the delicate triangle of your bra
Hair curled with humidity, the lines of your eyes like beautiful branch marks in the sand
Weeping on my chest as I read you a bedtime story
You scrubbed my skin clean with determination in your forearm
More human, kinder
I didn’t kiss you like a mother.

Passionate sunlit afternoons, often without a word spoken
Buttons unbuttoned, looking at each other hungrily
Slowly at first, then faster, weakly
You’re so beautiful
What are you saying? Don’t say that.
“She seemed to be protecting them almost”
I cried for you later

You were ashamed (but not of me)
I was scared, and you taught me, I was nervous, and you guided me
It doesn’t matter what I think, it doesn’t matter what I feel
You could not help yourself, I could not help you
And years later, you read back to me
Is that kinder?

Remembering, my eyes, bright with innocence, my skin, radiated with youth
And your eyes, darkened by the smoke of the past
You were always concentrating, and I was full of wonder
How far would you go to protect a secret?
And the tub, at long last, could not wash everything away

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Written by TheUndomestic

February 2, 2009 at 5:45 am

Posted in Poem, Uncategorized

One Response

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  1. Wow. I love the details in here. You always did have an eye for that kind of stuff…

    crazyenglishteacher

    February 2, 2009 at 11:08 am


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