Poem for Poetry Thursday
Jack-in-the-Pulpit No. IV, 1930
by Georgia O'Keeffe, Alfred Stieglitz Collection, Bequest of Georgia O'Keeffe
Happy Poetry Thursday!
This poem I consider an oldie but a goodie, so I'm resisting every urge to edit. The subject matter and language is a bit explicit. Definitely not what I call "funny" but it brings a smile to my face nonetheless.
The Fly
“Has it been there the whole time?” You ask. Curious spectator,
trapped in the bombed out crash site of my room. Silent. Kinetic.
Only an hour ago I was staring up at you, nostrils flaring, thrusting
deep within my thickets of pubic hair, a thousand coiled snakes
guarding my stamen, my Jack in the Pulpit. We lay among
candle wicks, burnt into black nubs; sheets filled with moons and stars,
balled up in the right corner of my bed. The wet tangy smell
of sex and sweat hangs over this lost weekend, the weekend our
instinct kicked in. This weekend we became carnivores, going
to that place, that wildlife refuge where the most feared, protected
animals roam; where the mattress shakes and bangs into the walls,
the bed springs coil and recoil from the weight of pleasure. Tonight
we slip and slide and pull the room into us, taking the chairs,
the table, the bed, the paint off the walls, leaving here nothing,
nothing but this.
After posting here, visit yesterday's entry and tell me about the one poem that gets you going when the going gets tough.
Comments
Real grown up stuff.
And brave of you to post.
I love it :-)
too revealing. You left us to use our own memories and imaginations- while reliving your own...
BEAUTIFUL!!!
I thanked you on my page, but just in case you don't see it- thank you for the "secrets" idea.
I borrowed your concept- but I gave you credit of course :)
Sangindiva: I checked out your blog. Man, you've got some blockbuster secrets! Glad you're getting a lot of responses on your blog.
instinct kicked in
It so nicely portaits those first moments when you realize someone will become a lover
And, it's one of my favorites because it was part of a collection that I worked on with poet Phil Levine when he was my thesis adviser. He always liked it, so I'm extremely proud of it.
Phil liked "the paint off the walls."
The title reminds me of "The Flea" (I believe by Pope?) - also about sex and insects.
Guess I don't have an overwhelming need to make the fly image wrap up in a neat package at the end because the poem is meant to be wild.
Thanks for the feedback. I appreciate the fact that you leave
helpful comments on my poems.