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buoy
by Lauren Singeri wept for you in blue corners and
you stood still, afraid that if you moved,
i would see you, really see you,
inside the glory-less void in which
i fell for you,
and
your nothingness.
in the crux of elbows and
in between bicycle spokes,
through clenched teeth and cigarette burns
i gave you the stomped on innocence
of an already precarious situation,
and expected you to fix it.
and hands
groped under bra straps
that slid fortuitously to a grand finale
that was never supposed to come.
the tidal wave that broke the bow
bore the same mast of a former vessel.
i whistled when i spoke of fears
so as not to scare you,
i danced out of layers of knots
so you would think me reckless,
but in a good way.
i wrestled with abandon
and let it win so i would not need to chase you.
i wallowed in a hurt so thick that
no one else could ruin me without permission.
but you didn't ask.
you didn't memorize me.
you didn't know how
dangerous i was in a stained dress
pushing bruises in my knee caps just so i could
feel something
besides you.
07/05/2010 Posted on 07/05/2010
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 07/05/10 at 03:52 PM Like this a lot - like your title, your first stanza, the line "the tidal wave that broke the bow bore the same mast of a former vessel" and the poem in its entirety. |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 07/05/10 at 06:20 PM I can see the brave front, the facade of sanity you put on..and having been there a time or two, I can feel the deep innermost ache of putting it all down in words. Linda is right; great poem, Lauren. But why am I not surprised? |
| Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 07/05/10 at 07:01 PM i really like this! a lot! so many stand out lines as well |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 07/06/10 at 02:02 PM What is interesting is that you create a sort of double-buoy metaphor...the man as one, the one to remove the ignominy of the rest, the one to make it all better who obviously fails to do so because that was the inevitable conclusion, so you are left to be your own buoy, which you are also incapable of being, so you sink down into the mire of contained grief, letting the bruises form on the inside, the outer ones merely pale imitations. An incredibly strong piece, Lauren! |
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