Friday, March 24, 2006

'Round The Mulberry Bush

(Those of you who post on MySpace have already read this one on my blog there three days ago)

Like so many decisions, made in haste;
his hand on your arm, bidding you stay,
while the crazy bluebirds circle, crying
yes, yes, and the great willows bend
in the wind, moaning yes yes.

And so you lay your head next to his,
listen again to his lies, try to believe
those bluebirds and the willow trees
and the flash rain that comes, soaking
everything back to bright green.

Your body melts to the bed when he enters you,
whispering secrets only two lovers share, but
you know they all lie--the foolish bluebirds,
feathers like sharp glass, the two-timing willows,
even the greedy rain, and so you rest pennies
upon your eyes when he has finished, draw
a shroud up across your face.

You recite your prayers to the tooth fairy,
Romeo and Juliet, and the weeping lady
across the street, knowing
tomorrow he will kill you again.


Thanks to all of you pulling for me. The headache isn't gone, yet, but it's MUCH better. When a med gives one of those whoppers--at least to me--it takes a few days for it to completely clear. Still just not doing much with my eyes and that's helping. Since I have so very many med reactions, not all headaches, you can see why I approach a new med as an experiment in terror:-)


Pat Paulk said...

Pris, glad the headache is better. I don't know how people with migraines do it. Now to the poem, absolutely fantastic write!!! ",,, so you rest pennies upon your eyes when he is finished..." fantabulous line!! Very sad, though, very sad.

Pris said...

Hi Pat
I don't know how people with migraines do it, either. I just get headaches with reactions to things, but this thing was a blinding killer! Could never deal with that on a regular basis. Thanks for your comment on the poem. Yes, sad. So many sad relationships. About time for a happy one, eh?

Michael Parker said...

Yes. Again, I would like to say that I like this poem very very much.

Pris said...

Thanks, Michael, but I'm sure you're sick of reading it by now:-)

Queen Neetee said...

I've come here by way of pat paulk, and am I glad I did.

This poem is magnificent!

You show how hope speaks from many forms to convince us of what we cannot fully see. In the end, it is the illusion of the heart - directed by tactile sensations - that drag us wantingly into the world of pleasure.

I love this!

Pris said...

Thank you so much and thank Pat for directing you here.

Ellen M Johns said...

Yes...I love this too, particularly the last stanza.

Pris said...

Thanks, Ellen. I'm going to make it by your blog tomorrow. Still slow catching up.