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Heure Verte dans le Cimetière
by Max Bouilleti am sugar through the absinthe spoon
awaiting the louche,
(moonlight reflects
the shadows that lurk
behind soft folds
and musky kisses
that whisper breathless pleas
to hungry ears)
discarded lace
deliquesces into white sage
and the confusion
that promises clarity
brings me closer
to the bit of my
soul that lay
in the ground
with you.
perchance the little green fairies
may dig you up and help
wrench that piece of me
from your heart...
but no,
instead i will
drip through the slotted spoon
fall into the fog
sleep with the spirits
and drown.
the licks of envious
Victorian fairies
still fresh on
my flesh
as they lay me
in the ground
--just inches away from
you. 05/11/2005 Author's Note: The title means "Green hour in the Cemetery".
"Green Hour" is simply a time to drink absinthe.
"Louche" has multiple meanings in this piece. The first being that "louche" is the word used to describe the clouding effect that occurs when you add water to absinthe. "Louche" can also mean having the qualities of being disreputable, shady, or shifty. It can also mean something subject to two or more interpretations and usually used to mislead or confuse. Quite frankly, I love all those meanings --and they all seem to fit.
Posted on 05/11/2005
Copyright © 2024 Max Bouillet
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Rula Shin on 05/13/05 at 06:33 PM Well, what can I say about this Max. This piece of yours is simply incredible, and I LOVE that absinthe imagery more than I can say. Indeed, if there is any time to be ‘green’ or to seek the guiding comfort of that green fairy it is in an hour of need, in an hour of pain…what better place than on cemetery grounds seeking to numb the pain, “am sugar through the absinthe spoon awaiting the louche… the confusion that promises clarity brings me closer to the bit of my soul that lay in the ground with you” – oh what a thought and what a way to say that thought! I was simply mesmerized by that notion that clarity can be obtained through weathering the confusion, that shady and mysterious cloud of doubt and shadow…yes, somehow clarity is present amidst the confusion when the senses are stretching and returning “the licks of envious Victorian fairies still fresh on my flesh” – this is not a comforting poem, but a poem about trying to find comfort. I really love this Max. I am feeling inspired to write my own “absinthe” poem even! Hahaha Thank you so much for sharing, this one is just superb in imagery, language, meaning, and all around aura…. |
| Posted by Graeme Fielden on 05/14/05 at 02:44 PM Vincent would lose an ear for such a work...As a regular Absinth abuctee I can nothing else but say thank you for something to which to lend my ear..."deliquesces into white sage" that was my favourite line... |
| Posted by Michele Schottelkorb on 05/18/05 at 04:35 PM having had the pleasure once to indulge with the green faeries... and never having written on this intriguing subject... you have snared this one of absinthe following in a web of mystery and desire... gorgeous imagery, lush verbiage and delightfully displayed... thank you for taking me back... incredible piece, my POTD pick today... blessings... |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 06/12/05 at 10:17 AM Gin & it - reconcilliation flavoured with syrup of diseased fig - masterful draught reversion :) |
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