Time out
In reference to a man we all know, he said,
“Marriage has been good for him.”
Advanced in age, the man now boasts a wife-mother-lover
Washing his delusions
With her deft fingers.
Rose-tinted, perfect for the time of day, she will absorb
And alter for him the impediments of reality,
Let the past fit into his vision’s tunnel.
Does he see her?
An unlikely survivor, continuing unscathed, protected by the rosy hand,
As willingly she receives the wounds, a pincushion
To his repetitive ministrations.
Lies there, thinks what’s needed, while he’s her visible disaster.
Marriage has been good for him.
Everything’s been bugging me lately — I don’t want to hear the news, I want to shoot talking heads with more than pop guns. Oddly enough, a poem of sorts sprang up from all that frustration, triggered by a phone conversation I had the other night. I used to do this a lot — not the character assassination inherent in this particular piece, but rather letting a poem (or something that’s dressed up as one) spill out. Maybe I’m inspired by the trend in Maria‘s and Elaine‘s blogs, maybe it’s just the thing to do right now. This alleged poem lets me say something compressed and real, part of my real world, something I understand. This in turn may or may not be something that has meaning beyond my world, although I would hope it does resonate in some way even with readers who have no idea who or what triggered my scribble. I don’t want to try to say something that’s an explication and somehow valid in some larger argument. I just want to say something that I recognised as true, all of a sudden, about someone, and that struck me as having applicability in other situations. In that sense, the off-hand remark my telephone caller made, “Marriage has been good for him,” opened into a bigger world that I liked better than all the stuff that was pulling at my attention otherwise. It seemed more real, which seems a weird thing to say about something so inconsequential.
Yule, I find that poetry, its insatiable demand for compression, is a great release in a way – isn’t it?
I like the way your poem moved from what appeared to be a picture of an imposing and “boasting” older man and his exploitation of sorts of a “rose-tinted” (and one would assume delicate) young woman to the not-so rosy part played by the young wife. Of course, the title does give a hint … so, if you wanted to work on this, and you are open to suggestions, and if I were working on this, well, I would change the title.
For me, the poem carries that sense of mysterious, as well as somehwat menacing darkness that is the heart of fairy tales.
I love the line: “Let the past fit into his vision’s tunnel” for that inversion of the idiom (and image) is the nub, or perspective, or framing of the poem for me….
Comment by maria — May 20, 2004 #
Yule, I find that that poetry, its demand for compression, is a great release in a way – isn’t it? I like the way the poem moved from what appeared to be a picture of an imposing and “boasting” older man and his exploitation of sorts of a “rose-tinted” (and one would assume delicate) young woman to the not-so rosy part played by the young wife. Of course, the title does give a hint … so, if you wanted to work on this some more, and if you are open to suggestions, I suggest changing the title.
For me, the poem has that sense of mysterious, as well as menacing sense of darkness that is the heart of fairy tales.
I love the line: “Let the past fit into his vision’s tunnel” for that inversion of the idiom (and image) is the nub, or perspective, or frame of the poem for me….
Comment by maria — May 20, 2004 #
I tried to leave a comment again, and it seems to be gone again.
SOrry
Comment by Shelley — May 20, 2004 #