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
        murmurs         no
        whispers         no
raise sweater
rip singlet
kick shoes
slip stockings
        says         no
        repeats         no
wracked forehead, mouth, shoulders, arms, hands, wrists, fists, buttocks, legs, ankles
        snarls         no
        crying         no
clinking movement
honey drinking
warm unfurled crushed will
                no
                no
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.
        Repeat         no.
        Meant         no.
Dead-man's-fingers cover absence.
Posted by Jennifer Liston