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

this story..poem..whatever you want to call it. It's simply beautiful and unique!

Posted 11 Years Ago


Beautiful Poetry...I love the title too, as I do breath in fog where I am from. Lovely, Lovely, write.

Posted 11 Years Ago


well, I don't know much about this poetry yet, how it works, but this poem makes me think about how the other side feels when I open my eyes and she's staring at me like that. I really think this is something else, wonderful stuff!

Posted 11 Years Ago


An incredibly unique poem. It screams with pain but yet have pleasure hidden within. I have never read anything like this and I mean that as a compliment.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Interesting, with some great lines and imagery, well done!

Posted 11 Years Ago


I came back...

Posted 12 Years Ago


I put a voice to this... to hear you echo inside. I don't EVER do that lightly.

Posted 12 Years Ago


I do hope you return...I'm amazed!


Kelly

Posted 12 Years Ago


Well Jeanmarie, I can't quote the whole darn thing....although I'd feel like I should. You are so gifted, so so so amazing with language. I can literally see your verses as I read them. My favorite lines: "Its a shame I didn't stain him, its a shame my blood doesn't laugh at him from my palms." And especially this one: "Its a shame I still make him smile." That one is hitting me like a train...seriously, you are a force to be reckoned with, dear Jeanmarie....such a glorious human...beautiful beautiful work....thank you...

Posted 12 Years Ago



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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