Rescue Tuesdays #3: Disgrace

It’s that time of the week again!

I rescued this poem from Disgrace by J M Coetzee (p27) and The Shipping News by Annie Proulx (p193). What do you think? Or maybe I should ask how you feel.

Disgrace

Beer fingers pressed
his face towers
leaning like a lover
whispering wary affairs

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspmurmurs &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspwhispers &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno

raise sweater
rip singlet
kick shoes
slip stockings

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspsays &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsprepeats &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno

wracked forehead, mouth, shoulders, arms, hands, wrists, fists, buttocks, legs, ankles

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspsnarls &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspcrying &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno

clinking movement
honey drinking
warm unfurled crushed will

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno

heavy hands stroke folds
looped to bottles of misery
snake uncurled, hard against belly
intoxicating rock of female
clasped to a basket of heat
perforated prisoner

twitched, transfixed, then flicker
suddenly the idea of ice, blackening, double-towered, in waves
reared storm tilting soundlessly, quickly.

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspRepeat &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno.
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspMeant &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno.

Dead-man’s-fingers cover absence.