The Breathing Fog of May and the Insistence of Wednesday's Sun.

The Breathing Fog of May and the Insistence of Wednesday's Sun.

A Poem by Jeanmarie Flaherty

It's...


irrelevant


we're two stories, picture books rubbed raw and torn pages, he's


ripped


up the middle, down the lines of his face on the left and his right ear


dangles


over my toes when midnight falls, I watch him, inconspicuous, listen to my sleep.



I'm breathing, I'm attacked by May and I used to know lavender beneath the fog, I used to know dawn, I blanketed myself with scratches and wrote love letters to April when I missed the rain...


but now I write letters to him, hoping, somewhere, my handwriting can tattoo his skin.



He...


feels...


sometimes, I think it's love, that's what he's termed this undiluted destruction of me and it's a shame I didn't stain him, it's a shame my blood doesn't laugh at him from his palms, it's a



shame



I don't crawl over him like fleas at midnight, biting, itching and tearing him to shreds...


it's a shame I still make him smile.



I know the shape of Tuesday evening, she turns sideways beneath the moon, and my thighs become blue with memories and reflections but I leave the window open to confuse tomorrow


I crack the glass and pray I don't bleed, I...


slice through sunlight, I'm


tired


and he's sleeping, his eyes are always closed....


and I whisper to Wednesday to steal his eyelashes, I cry to April to blow them to me and I promised, I promised Thursday I'd make these wishes....



but I don't know



how to collect.




He's ineffectual as long as I'm cold, he's problematic and I sweat, swatting at headlights and curling under blankets, I'm trying to fool myself but



my eyes don't close...


and I've spit on last January, indignant in her youth, she'll never hear the screaming pain of forgiveness...


and my mouth


won't


close, my teeth won't crash and creek and grind him down...


not this close to May, anyway, not this close to


Wednesday.



© 2011 Jeanmarie Flaherty


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Reviews

yes, you've got your frisbee spinning well there, and it's coming closer

Posted 8 Years Ago


You have so many good metaphors. I wish could write poetry like this. 120 out of 100

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Jeanmarie Flaherty

8 Years Ago

Thank you so very much :)
besides this being obviously a bit sullen, there's a lot of magic and some great metaphors and non-sequiturs floating around here and I really liked it a lot


Posted 9 Years Ago


Every fragment of thought is so intricately woven into this melancholy perfection. It's a delicacy like no other. xo

Posted 9 Years Ago


The poem has a nice name.

Posted 10 Years Ago


I still remember reading the shards of your novel... how I could see then the very profound uniqueness of your voice... brilliant and beautifully bittersweet...

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Jeanmarie Flaherty

10 Years Ago

What a beautiful review Craig Froman :) thank you :)
An owl on the moon

10 Years Ago

You are amazing, Jeanmarie... don't forget it! :)
Trippy

Posted 10 Years Ago


I enjoyed this tremendously, a wonderfully collective
mass of days and months projecting a saddening
storyline...

Posted 10 Years Ago


This is written in a very interesting, and unique style!!

Posted 10 Years Ago


Cool. I like how you talk of the seasons as living spirits--that's really special.

Posted 10 Years Ago



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888 Views
20 Reviews
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Added on December 9, 2011
Last Updated on December 9, 2011

Author

Jeanmarie Flaherty
Jeanmarie Flaherty

The Gulf, FL



About
I am reality, I am art, I am every dream I've ever had and the corners of my childrens lips when they smile. I am tears and laughter, I am shoulders and knees, I am a writer, a photographer, a mother... more..

Writing