poem: Satin Sheets and Tiger Claws

"and everything depends upon/ how near you sleep to me...

oh take this longing from my tongue/ all the lonely things my hands have done"- L. Cohen

 

 

 

and tonight, I drew you in shadows

     because the streets narrowed as the sun went down

   behind my back

         and I thought I saw something flicker

    in an empty lot where children play their own version of soccer

avoiding glass shards

               and dialogue.

 

we could make it if only reality

    were not always getting in the damned way of things.

 

but such is the way of shadows

    and children, and empty lots in hearts everywhere

      we sometimes play at children's games

knowing much more

      than dialogue was forever at stake,

           and feigning toughness as only children

finding their way in barrios devoid of affection

    could ever invent.

 

In our roughness we are tender-

    and this becomes our religion;

       Philosophy and morality tied into one breath

one sigh, a pushing in, a pulling out

      moments stolen recklessly of lives

          lived in limitations of streets while dreaming

of long walks on beaches and candlelit dinners

        and time for a gaze to coalesce

in spaces tended by the the caress of gentle winds, soft rains.

 

knowing that all we could get is the tempest-

   she would be here, she would be memorable,

        she would be achingly sweet

and deadly and divinely breathtaking

      and everything passionate

           two souls will ever, could ever... ask;

equal parts satin sheets and tiger claws;

    roses and predatory stalking

          through the streets where shadows play at sundown.

 

and she is ours if we want her.

 

sweet lilies nod in time

    and we think in cycles, in seasons, in dust

in the songs of warblers

       and the coming of rains;

shoe merchants hawk their wares and we walk on

   and fruit vendors divine our fortunes in seed patterns

and this is the way of us.

      We can and do only speak of today, this street

that striped ball in a forgotten field

       green grass strewn with broken glass... like them,

we punt that ball carefully around the cow grazing

               in the middle of all things.

 

if I had any courage left to ask

    it would be this...

        give me just one chance

to set aside barrio cynicism, trapped sparrows

         ashes and begging. Give me

one night, breath to breath, heart to heart

   let me feel your soul cry from its trapped space

into my open mouth, let me

   imagine just once that I am normal,

     that I could be yours, only-

          that I could be free in a house;

could never imagine waking up

     another single lonely damned dawn

on earth. Let me retract my claws,

        embrace you into the space between my breasts,

scented like lilies.

 

When the rains come, we can pretend

     they are the gentle kind that nurtures the span

of lives spent remembering how

      children can be so tough

            and so very unafraid when the sun goes down

after their game.

                 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Horizon K.]

Another fantastic one from you Marie, this one had so much longing for fulfillment beyond just physical passion, for a greater dialogue then what children have, for two bodies to connect on that deeper level, if only...
And as always I love the style you write your poems with, they always read like letters straight to the heart.
Horizon

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks for your words, Horizon. I believe my own words come through that way because I have never learned the wisdom of holding anything back. Part of the reason I write is that I do speak straight to and from my own heart- there is too much there sometimes to hold back. I tried for several years... and it did neither myself nor anyone around me any good. You are right in target with this one. A deeper longing, connection... that one we all long for on some level if we are connected at all. Sometimes we are shown... unorthodox... opportunities to fill that longing. And then the fun really begins.

[Horizon K.]

Well I'm glad you don't hold back Marie, it's beautiful this way. I think if a poet wants the reader to feel something, then the heart must be exposed...

[lee von cleef]

And with the click of a mouse , I am here. No ruby slippers toto, just hard hat and steel toes, a tired man in the mirror, who? so far from the age in my head, ahh but the once is still a dream of now. sea breeze salt and cleavage. White caps to the waves, their bosoms raising rapid anticipation in spite of the armadas blockade. To tear the wild blending of indifference in the world to the need to be needed to be , fulfilled.Perhaps that to is part of this clockwork of inevitability.

[Marie Anzalone]

"life goes not backwards, nor tarries with yesterday"- Gibran

How often I read the Prophet's words but did not understand them until I lived them. We can only ever experience backwards and move forwards, expect for the truly gifted among us. Rig the sails, my dear sweet friend. The saltwater has something to show you I think. Grief is an anchor. Only love, not time, triumphs over heartbreak and life's betrayal. She isn't found in safe harbors.

[Fernando Pessoa]

You really do paint with all the hues of life. The light casts shadows and lends itself to the depth of passion in sorrows and joys. A world rests in your breathing words.

"Her lips on his could tell him better than all her stumbling words." ~ Margaret Mitchell

[Marie Anzalone]

Great quote. I always believed that more can be communicated with a kiss than almost any other single act of touch or speech that exists. I thought I knew once the man I was going to marry because his kiss communicated "home." It turned out he was deceiving himself, even more than me. The man I wrote this one I could never kiss and walk away from- so I know better than to put us both through that. Soemone between those extremes of light and shadow, maybe there is a comfortable space waiting to take me in. I find most want one side or the other- the satin or the tigress- but not both. So I wait.




"May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself."
— Neil Gaiman

[Mike Emil]

what is this all about? i was in the congo of tent trips nothing compared to those escapades...not laying around emoting in a tent...hey, there's a play here maybe a musical with lotsa bass in it...loud and bassy

[Marie Anzalone]

More cowbell would be needed for that, methinks

[Mike Emil]

do NOT mock the cowbell...explore the sexuality of the stand up bass played by a female!!!

[Mike Emil]

do NOT mock the cowbell...explore the stand-up bass as played by a female!!!

[gombeggar]

so full of the 5 senses it's an intoxicating read

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, gombeggar... I tend to gravitate towars the visceral in my poems... I believe we cannot connect unless we are willing to discuss thoughts, sensations, feelings, impressions, etc. It confuses some people, but others seem to like it. I am glad you are one of the latter.

[gombeggar]

u know me too well, me thinks ;)

[Marie Anzalone]

indeed it has been a long time, my friend

[Frieda P]

This is nothing short of brilliant. I'm in love with this piece of writing. Holy...it's over the moon good stuff. I dare say I love every line...but this grabbed me by the hair and pulled hard. ;-)

equal parts satin sheets and tiger claws;
roses and predatory stalking

Nice....

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, Frieda, for your review. I believe that writing should challenge the writer as much as invite the reader, and this one grabbed me and did not relent until it was out. At its heart it is simple.. a walk down the dusty Central American street in the city I call home- watching shadows and children playing soccer with a striped plastic ball in a dusty field where a cow was grazing. But I find my mind is always working... and when we are in walking meditation our minds tend to wander to the places we are the happiest. Sometimes we are surprised by those routes. That's when it is time to pay attention. There is truth in the unexpected. Courage is finding the words to express even the most hidden truth. I'm about, oh maybe, 1/4 of the way there... :-)

[Through the Gateway]

A brilliant and lovely cry for just that moment of divine. Wanting not only the moment, but to accept that moment when it comes. It is achingly beautiful and well written. I feel my own struggles mirroring yours and understand that pain. Your poetry always has a visceral nature to it that few reach.

Wonderful.

[Marie Anzalone]

Mi amigo del alma, I need to spend some time with your words here and in your new write before I respond, and I have to unfortunately awaken now and get ready for breakfast and a journey. Will talk later when there is a destination arrived at.

[Marie Anzalone]

Yes, wanting the moment and dreading what it means at the same time. To quote my man Gibran,
"When love beckons to you follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. "

We should only ask for what we are prepared to actually receive were our desire to be granted. The greater the connection, the greater the fire, the more dangerous it is. For it will change us, for better or worse. When we ask for love, we are not asking so much for our complement in life to arrive, but for our entire worldview to be changed to accommodate the will of a larger power. THAT is a concept no-one wants to look too closely in the face. We like to think we are just f*****g fine exactly how we are, thank you very much. Funny thing, if we set out with the intent of changing our beloved... well that always ends in disaster too. As you know. The hardest thing in the world is holding open a space for the other to grow towards you... or not. That requires the kind of courage only little children have, playing their games and challenging the night. Would that we could but remember how, my dear friend.

Thank you for your review. Your words always mean the world to me. TAMEDA.

[Antonio Valentino]

"and tonight, I drew you in shadows
because the streets narrowed as the sun went down
behind my back"

Marie, i had to read that 3 to 4 times just to get the full effect of it, it was that good

"we could make it if only reality
were not always getting in the damned way of things.'

that is such a great thought, i have so many ideas from a piece im writing right now about reality that i could reply to this, but i think ill just save them for the poem and keep walking.. .. .. .

"but such is the way of shadows
and children, and empty lots in hearts everywhere
we sometimes play at children's games
knowing much more
than dialogue was forever at stake,"

oh my god youre killing me here, seriously.. around every corner here theres another vista that you just have to stop at, and enjoy it..

"In our roughness we are tender-
and this becomes our religion;
Philosophy and morality tied into one breath
one sigh, a pushing in, a pulling out
moments stolen recklessly of lives
lived in limitations of streets while dreaming
of long walks on beaches and candlelit dinners
and time for a gaze to coalesce
in spaces tended by the the caress of gentle winds, soft rains."

first of all, i like the staggered lines, that make me think of cobbled roads leading up and around hills in some ancient little village or parish.. i especially liked the, philosophy and mortality line, about moments being stolen recklessly of lives lived in limitations.. oooohh.. this is some pretty special stuff here my friend..

"knowing that all we could get is the tempest-
she would be here, she would be memorable,
she would be achingly sweet
and deadly and divinely breathtaking
and everything passionate
two souls will ever, could ever... ask;
equal parts satin sheets and tiger claws;
roses and predatory stalking
through the streets where shadows play at sundown.

and she is ours if we want her."

cheezun rice, beans, and wacamole.. good gracious that was good!

"We can and do only speak of today, this street
that striped ball in a forgotten field
green grass strewn with broken glass... like them,
we punt that ball carefully around the cow grazing
in the middle of all things."

what a fresh and original image......

"if I had any courage left to ask
it would be this...
give me just one chance
to set aside barrio cynicism, trapped sparrows
ashes and begging. Give me
one night, breath to breath, heart to heart
let me feel your soul cry from its trapped space
into my open mouth, let me
imagine just once that I am normal,
that I could be yours, only-
that I could be free in a house;
could never imagine waking up
another single lonely damned dawn
on earth. Let me retract my claws,
embrace you into the space between my breasts,
scented like lilies."

Marie, i think the sky just cracked and the oceans fell up into it
a more heartfelt and sincere plea than this could not be penned
what has come over you.. someone better check you for jungle fever or something.. this is beyond glorious

"When the rains come, we can pretend
they are the gentle kind that nurtures the span
of lives spent remembering how
children can be so tough
and so very unafraid when the sun goes down
after their game."


what a perfect ending to an amaing journey...............

if only we could stay as brave and innocent as the heart of babes


oh yeah.. . i liked this, a lot

[Marie Anzalone]

Ah my Antonio... you could break my heart with your sweetness sometimes. You know, maybe without realizing it, you pictured this town down to its last detail, with its unenven cobbelstone streets and garbage filled fields and smiling kids finding any little patch of greenery to play and find joy and even slay dragons. How I do wish we could go back to those days, but it is a fearful place to travel alone in the dark we must cross to get there. And when undercurrents threaten to swallow us alive, we often find we need something to hold on to for fear fo drowning. I guess in this one, I was writing about being able to face the fear too of drowning one's way back into consciousness with the help of a fellow traveler. You ask what has come over me? An answer to a question I asked long ago. If you ask the Universe to provide something... be prepared for a cosmic lesson the size and scope of the sky in your particular world. Then be prepared for the ocean to fall into it, as you astutely point out. We cannot stay innocent, but sometimes, if you are lucky, you will be allowed to circle back towards it. I think you know this, too.So much of your own writing deals with the same themes seen through different eyes, on the shores of different oceans. I am glad this piece touched you, my kindred spirit. Blessings on your day.

[Antonio Valentino]

and blessings to you as well Marie..

lemme know if your heart needs mending, i come with duck tape.. :D

[Marie Anzalone]

Will keep your offer close to my heart and consider it for sure, my friend

[Tree]

I like what Horizon said. "...they always read like letters straight to the heart."

This write is so close to the soul of the author, so sincere that there is no choice but to hear what she hears; see what she sees; and inevitably feel what she feels. Philosophical and mysterious just like the soul, reading this felt as if I were being given a tour. Standing over your shoulder you point out the details in your landscape then direct the reader/ inward...
And I would be remiss if I didn't point out the overarching force of that last stanza. Especially, those last three verses. You finished with a flash of illumination.


There are those who say poetry's value lay only in its art, but I believe it is much more than that. It is a map, to the soul. A tool that breaks open hearts ... and another tool that fastens them back together

[Marie Anzalone]

Diego, you are the only one I think, with your director's eye for such detail, to realize I was actually describing a real walk down a real street, collecting my thoughts as I progressed (although in fairness I think Antonio caught a glimpse of that, too). I thank you for understanding that bit about the soul map, too. That is exactly what much of my writing directed towards others, is... an attempt to put the soul in words. People would avoid breaking their hearts open to know what is inside, but I am reminded of a Jewish proverb I read once.

An apppentice is talking to an old rabbi, and he asks the rabbi, "Why, when we pray to God, do we pray to have the holy words placed UPON our hearts? Do they not belong inside our hearts? Why not pray instead to have them placed there?"

and the rabbi responds, "Because in our current, normal state of existence, our hearts are tightly closed. They must be broken open in order for the holy words to fall inside."

[VennelaMargame]

Reminds me of a saying that you posted on Facebook once about the desire to make love to someone's mind, or some phrasing similar to that, and the delight of letting down pretense and picking each other's brains. I don't know if I'm imagining it, but there always seems to be a slight undercurrent of Roethke's vegetal radicalism, as they call it, in your thoughts. I suppose it goes without saying that I rather wish you and I were nearer right now so we could pick each other's brains over this.

[Marie Anzalone]

Ah my friend you see the organic in my owrk, I think, because I am, above all, an ecologist at heart. To me love and friendship are like living trees whose branches intertwine, and that must be nurtured and tended and provided the conditions for growth. As for that last line, remember the rules of poetry interpretation... figure out who is the speaker, the intended audience, and then the message. And yes, oh yes... intellectual stimulation, a making love to the mind, breaking down the walls of inhibition.. fabulous stuff. There is soemthing to be said for sheer human physicality and animalistic nature... but the true delight is peeling back the layers of intellectual sweetness and intimacy, one paper-then layer at a time, in mutual discovery and pleasure gained form what you find in each other. I just keep forgetting to qualify my requests to the Universe. Available. Available. Must. Be. Available. :-)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"and empty lots in hearts everywhere"

what a line!

so many brilliant phrases in this...excellent and very moving piece of writing.

yes, kids are so honest and so unafraid...but then, we grow up...and life makes us shy and self-protective.

next to last stanza is so visual...

very much reminds me of the beats...especially Levertov...

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you very much, Jacob, for stopping by on this one. I wonder sometimes if we grow out of our place of strenght and learn to be fearful due mostly to not having someone to guide us through healthy perception of pain, loss, and disappointment? We internalize so damned much, especially us ladies. We spend so long unlearning the hurts, judgments, and rules of adolescence and young adulthood... it seems like that alone wastes a good portion of our lives and loves.