Thursday, June 4, 2009

Archipelago Series

copyright Anne 2008

 

Archipelago II

The islands of the Aegean Archipelago

Were scattered like the islands of

Her memory of Helen.

The largest was the landscape of love,

Shared, then lost, the most populated with memories.

Then on to the most craggy of the lot:

Rough spots, cliff-hangers, if you will--

Some that had left them dangling by a fraying rope,

Some whose views from the top had been mesmerizing.

After that, the smaller islands:

One, merely a glance;

Another, a longer look across a table;

The next, a tear that left a trail of black down her cheek;

Finally, the smallest but dearest--her voice.

The islands fade now, but her voice

Is the chime of memory

Each time the wind blows.

 

 

 

 

Archipelago III

Islands keep appearing.

Some slowly,

Some jutting up abruptly,

Some playing Hide and Seek

Like my dream lover.

She appears, she disappears,

She is angry, hurt,

Sometimes consoling,

But always indignant,

Justified, always right, and

Alone.

Alone is the largest island:

Safe, a fortress against feeling,

Like Jonah in the Whale.

The islands that jut up in this

Sea of Consciousness are

Small but potent:

The most rugged islands are

Pain that others caused and

Memory that refuses to forgive.

"Lean into the sharp edges,"

Helen Keller said. She bled but

She could see for the first time

A world that had denied itself to her.

And there are other islands,

One for business,

One for the impersonal voice,

I get to visit often—like going to the mall.

Like reading the daily paper—

Mundane, pedestrian, ordinary,

Yet still compartmentalized—

Shall I go to this store? Or that?

Shall I read the sports section?

But once I saw that private island,

The one where my lover lives,

The one that is vulnerable,

Unprotected,

Beautiful…

My ship keeps steering there-

Calypso II—

And I want to be her captive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Archipelago IV

These islands are my own and

They are uncharted as yet.

The first crude maps gave only

An imperfect representation,

Like an old sheet of Polaroid film

Whose development had stopped

Somewhere in the process,

Leaving only a suggestion of

What was there.

The later maps got the distances correct:

4,776 miles to London;

4,508 miles to Glasgow.

But from which island?

The largest which offered the most

To its inhabitants?

The one that had been cultivated

To provide the nourishment?

The one with the volcano

That seeped its sorrows?

The one that had been bombed

To test the weapons?

The cartographers had a field day.

How far was it from nourishment to

Seeping sorrows, for example?

Did the tides of a Full Moon

Hide more shoreline?

Where the hell were these islands?

Why did distance matter?

They finally gave up. So did I.

The changing landscape provided

Nothing solid from which to gauge

The distance between each island:

Only the mainland remained a fixed point.

Simple Things

Simple Things

I want to know how your hand-writing looks,

How you cross your t's and make your g's.

I want to know what is on your bedside table

And if you dream of me and talk in your sleep.

I want to know how your hair feels

how it smells and

if it falls off your forehead.

I want to see your toothbrush and

Watch you brush your teeth.

I want to know how you like your coffee,

if you leave lipstick on the rim.

I want to see you dress in the morning.

What do you slip into first?

I want to zip your little black dress.

I want to know your routine.

I want to know if you sleep naked.

I want to see your ears, if they lie close

To your head. If you like them kissed.

I want to see the hair on your neck and

Bury my head in it.

I want to see your nipples. Are they pink? Brown?

What do they look like when they stand up?

How do they feel in my mouth?

I want to see your navel. Is it ticklish?

Is it in or out?

I want to trace the line to your wetness,

I want to smell you,

Feel your wetness in my fingers,

Taste it with my tongue.

I want you in my bed.

I want you in my life.

© Anne 2008

Each Breath

Each Breath I Take



In my dreams last night


I heard her voice…


I had been shedding my skin


To grow new defenses, but


She found me vulnerable,


Visceral, open, undefended.



Now I will never grow a skin


Thick enough to keep her out…


She seeped into my pores,


Took over my breathing,


Heated my blood.


She is in me now.


Each breath I take


She tells me that.



© Anne 2008

Hear-Say

Her friend says,


"I hope you find a love that lasts forever."


I found it in her voice, her words,


Her fortress of feelings


Barely showing the first breech.


Battering rams won't work with her;


I tried scaling the wall—cut myself with glass.


Then I shot flaming arrows


Into the courtyard…


They burned themselves out;


She stomped the embers.


But she missed one and


That ember will glow far into her nights.



I am waiting for the breech to widen,


Burst open,


Explode,


Cover me with the hard stones of her heart


So that I can pick up each one and


Wash it in the stream of my love.



I am waiting.


I am patient.


I am in love.


© Anne 2008

Wondering

I will always think about you

I will always wonder

I will always want to know

How the sunsets might have looked different

How a cup of coffee with you might have smelled

How I might have picked you a flower and

Tickled you softly on the cheek

How sitting with you by a fire on the beach

Might have made the stars come out more brightly

How you might have felt beside me

I will always wonder

How it might have been

If you had wondered too.

© Anne 2008

Desert Flowering



Desert Flowering
It's 10 'til 4 in the morning where you are.
I wonder which side you are sleeping on and
If your hair is tousled, or if there are
Pillow case marks on your cheek.
Are you hugging a pillow like I do?
Have you gone through a dozen dozen like I have?
I wonder what wakes you up and
If you startle awake or slowly come into focus.
Do you stretch and thank God for making it
Through another night? Or smile as the
Sun streaks across your face.
As for me, I am acknowledging the dimensions
Where everything is possible.
I am tossing the pillows I cling to.
I am remembering who I am.
I am rising up out of the Jordan
Looking into the eyes of a madman
In a hair shirt, and seeing him and myself.
I have done my time in the desert and
I am done with illusions and temptations.
I have walked through the gate,
Into the garden, and out.
This old self has died, and I am out of the cave. Again.
The wrinkles on your cheek and what side you sleep on
No longer concern me. Instead,
Meet me with your true heart, your brave heart and
We can share our strength and
We can walk a path we see together.
Will you recognize me on the road? Or pass me by?

© Anne 2008

Discovery

Discovery

I am always looking for you.

Is there Grand Central Station in Limbo?

If so, I am standing in it.

I am always looking for you.

I thought I glimpsed you a couple of weeks ago.

But I dismissed it.

I want to see you so much, I just thought

I saw you everywhere.

Then last week, I was sure I saw you.

Tonight, I am afraid I have found you.

It was as if I had picked up a piece of ice and

Gripped it so tightly that I couldn't tell

If it were Hot or Cold.

I should name this piece "Pandora."

But love opened the box, not she, and--

And now I have to think of Him.

Of you next to him in our bed.

Of him holding you with what should be my arms.

And you making his coffee, not mine

And kissing him off to work, not me.

All this and so much more.

Earthquakes couldn't open a larger fault

Than the one my mind imagines and my soul knows.

I should be in tears, but all I can think of is

Irving and: Vonnegut

The first, "Keep passing the open windows."

The second, "And so it goes."

© Anne 2008