Underneath the Floorboards and Months Across these Doors.

Underneath the Floorboards and Months Across these Doors.

A Poem by Jeanmarie Flaherty

He sat there, turning his fingers around and studying the fingernails that


tip tapped


against the windows I had kept...


closed...


for fear of seasons dripping in, he


sat there


with no concern for the curls that fell across my winter worn cheeks, for the moisture that covered my face, for the blue eyes that stripped him...


he decided...


nothing.



I ignored the lack of depth in him and measured his silence with yardsticks 2 feet too long, his inappropriateness excited me...



and I dissolved somewhere in the mess of sheets on a Tuesday afternoon, while he


tip tapped


telephones and excused selfishness with a kiss upon my skin, Decemeber-drunk and ripped


between his teeth.





I reasoned with logic and mocked the irritation of my heart, he was out of sync with tomorrow, she breathed him out with the sighing of dandelions, he stuck himself


right in the middle of me


and I accepted nothing, the edges of my brain stained with Edger Allen Poe and the absence of literature inside his mouth...


I could smell him down in Florida and I knew....


somewhere in the cracks of me I still wanted him, he bled from my skin with no


concern


for the


tip tapping


that now resided in my head, I was nothing more than a corner to him, nothing more


than cobwebs and something


a little bit


beautiful.



I shocked myself with his disdain for acceptance and watched him dirty himself with pride...


I


tip tapped


my fingers on his forehead to hear the rattling of thoughts


and silence screamed back with the audacity


to mock


him...


but winter loved us once, and arguments mirrored secrets, he slept, violently, and I rocked back


and forth


on the edge of these memories yesterday


as I washed his


blood


off my bathroom door.


© 2009 Jeanmarie Flaherty



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Featured Review

The imagery in this is pure astounding, and you weave a tale of suspense like few I have seen. I am unsure whether to take the ending as fact or metaphor, but it deos not change the slow descent into realization, one whit. This is a piece that will saty with me, and will leave me pondering the repetition, the way you strung the images together, and the way you inhabited the narrator of the poem so deeply i could feel her breathe. Spellbinding.

Posted 2 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.



Reviews

What else is there to say but, this was wonderful. Grabbed me quickly and held me tight. Beautiful, beautiful write.

Posted 1 Year Ago


---watched him dirty himself with pride.
If you had said nothing more in this wondrous
epistle, you have said it all. You paintied a
marvelous caricature of an empty shell who`s
most important contribution to society was
----he dirtied himself with pride-----
Incredible, exquisite, and wondrous

----- Eagle Cruagh

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

You are a true talent...this absolutely blew me away...I'm still looking for my breath...I never expected this. Honestly, please do send me read requests...I'm completely hooked! Btw, Edgar Allen Poe was the first poetry I ever read and I sensed his ghost here in the first few lines....gorgeously executed, my friend. Bravo!

Posted 1 Year Ago


I love this piece. The story you tell is amazing, keeps the reader attached to this piece throughout the end. You have told your story with such grasping account, such strong wording and a great flow. Amazing work!

Posted 1 Year Ago


This reminded me a bit of Plath. I have not read much by her and I am no expert but the style and feel to the piece was familiar.

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Incredible !

This is so great that I need to reread it.
I expected a little poem about romance and
it turned into a story .... will tell you all about
the story when I have read it again and again.

Great writing .

------ Eagle Cruagh

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I hope i find the middle of my brain and get stuck there for a long, long time.
"my fingers on his forehead to hear the rattling of thoughts
and silence screamed back with the audacity."
What a way with words it is that you have.


Posted 1 Year Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This was.... Holy crap. The imagery gave me shivers, and the tapping, the reference to Edgar Allan Poe... I absolutely loved it. I'm actually speechless, I can't seem to find the right words to say, this was a brilliant brilliant piece!

~Adora

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Good lord Jean, this is sensational... whew! What a wonderful talent you have, I'm glad I got to meet and read you today, this was... perfect in many ways I can't even explain quite yet. I'm sure as I read this and more of your work, it will dawn on me why your writing clicks with me, besides that its just amazing.

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 2 people found this review constructive.

The imagery in this is pure astounding, and you weave a tale of suspense like few I have seen. I am unsure whether to take the ending as fact or metaphor, but it deos not change the slow descent into realization, one whit. This is a piece that will saty with me, and will leave me pondering the repetition, the way you strung the images together, and the way you inhabited the narrator of the poem so deeply i could feel her breathe. Spellbinding.

Posted 2 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


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22 Reviews
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Added on December 22, 2009
Last Updated on December 22, 2009

Author

Jeanmarie Flaherty
Jeanmarie Flaherty

The Woods, PA



About
I am. That's it, nothing else, a living breathing thought process, I got stuck somewhere in the middle of my brain. I don't want out. This is effing Wonderland. I'm taking a bite at becoming bi.. more..

Writing