X
this is midnight
an icicle hanging from your hand
dripping ice water onto the tile
of my kitchen floor
and pulling the two of us
closer to a stream
that will carry us to sea
where we will sink
and blow bubbles from our noses like
children learning to swim
kick, kick, kick
in your fingers i am moldable like clay
a piece of wax, play-
dough, sticks of modeling taffy
stuck onto your skin like an extension of you
float like a starfish
you said to me
yes, baby, my hand is still
on your back
holding you up
even if you can’t feel it
i fell
a dead weight
below the surface
chlorine in my sinuses
my lungs filling
with pool water
as you let go
and swam away
left me a shattered shell
turned to sand
on a forgotten coastline
only on the hand-drawn maps
of long-lost castaways
a time-honored scroll
in the catacombs
of a tribal king
executed in mutiny
clutching a golden key
in his left fist
the password to
paradise
I really love the first stanza of this poem, especially the icicles dripping from the hand image and the bubbles. I thought the images work well together.
ReplyDeleteJust curious, why is the title "X"?
I loved the first half of this poem more than the second half for its consistent imagery. At the turn with "I fell" maybe it could work to put the focus back on the person who left, instead of the one who was left?
ReplyDeleteThe icicle was a great opening image. I also appreciated the ending of the poem and the string of images that proceeds from the pool to the end of the poem with the "password to / paradise." In response to Laura's comment, I think that "X" would make sense as in "X marks the spot" in keeping with the pirate-treasure image we get at the end.
ReplyDeleteThe first three stanzas are a poem too! Unto themselves. And the rest would also then be a poem, a second, separate one? I'm not sure that the image of the tribal king is working (entirely) but the rest if vivid and precise and very much captures the swim lesson!
ReplyDelete