Postcard With Your Address
by Maria Kintner
The world keeps going, a spinning never ending blueness, while I sit here,
crouched down like a ninja, and I think of us, and where we'll be...
I reach out to you, with my songs and my words, trying to
find a place to hold on to you, somewhere in that dusty psyche,
surrounded by all the other stuff you have no time to pay attention to.
I wonder if you see my finger prints on your mirrors, where I tried to find your
face. I've stared into the irises that never dilate on bent photographs
that I find in hidden places. I've waited for the kisses you sent
on the wind.
I don't know what I miss anymore. Being a detached rib from the cage of
Adam, a memory of legs, skin and hair, sometimes a breath under your chin.
I don't know if I'm supposed to want to be re-jointed, a leg re-broken to
heal according to your own skeleton. What monster is being formed in this womb
of time? Lately, I don't seem to care.
By the time I remember to send this to you, my lips will have healed from
being chapped, my legs will start to tan, and I wont remember what I was singing to.
All things wilt. All flowers sleep. All children grow. All ends meet.
This is just a moment.
Author's Note: I wrote this in January of 2005, during a rough time, in a rough place. It's one of my all time favorites, and one of the very few that I am proud of.
Posted on 08/15/2007
Copyright © 2020 Maria Kintner
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Maria Terezia Ferencz on 08/15/07 at 07:48 AM|
Yes just a moment, but some moments can be so deep we never can crawl out. I love the line about staring into irises that never dilate, and the breath under your chin; perfect way of stating the feeling of a lost lover.
|Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 08/15/07 at 12:28 PM|
you've good reason to be proud. this is wonderful.
|Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 08/16/07 at 01:53 AM|
You've been very expressive and refreshing in your approach to 'lost love'! Always painful but time does heal most wounds (unless we keep picking at them).
|Posted by Sandy M. Humphrey on 08/17/07 at 07:10 PM|
I written many letters I never meant to send yet none were as poignant as this postcard...amazing. smh
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/18/07 at 10:09 PM|
This grabs me in the pit of things - I love the finger prints on the mirror, the irises in the photos, and the "what monster is being formed in the womb of time" is quite brilliant. I'm hoping the last few stanzas have the resolution you were needing, and in your last line, you realize this, too, shall pass.
|Posted by Michelle Angelini on 08/21/07 at 01:20 AM|
I was so into reading this, feeling the emotion, fascinated by the images - that I forgot to breath, honest. Heartbreak is sometimes more memorable than joy. Funny thing about that, huh? You've written this so well, that I can see why you're proud of it.
|Posted by Dave Fitzgerald on 01/19/09 at 03:12 PM|
Congrats on POTD!!!
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/19/09 at 03:52 PM|
Glad to see this as POTD!
|Posted by Joe Cramer on 01/19/09 at 09:08 PM|
... this is brilliant, I could not rate it high enough.... congrats on POTD!!!
|Posted by Meghan Helmich on 01/21/09 at 09:22 PM|
i think the poem really takes off in the second stanza, but 'lately, i don't seem to care...' takes away from the strange tangible history going on there. (this is all my opinion, of course! i hope you don't feel offended.) that second stanza...i don't know. it just has this concrete sound to it - this is how it is. this is how it will be. the 'you' subject doesn't even really count there. i think this poem wants to be more about the speaker and less about the audience.