Love Poem A-Go-Go
A poem for TFE's Love Bus. Happy Valentino's!
For God’s Sake (And One for My Baby)
Like a crayoned cat, I am watching you.
There is silence, with cat’s whiskers.
There is orange peel around the moon.
We stand in front of the fridge,
we begin to talk. I want you
to fashion me into something new,
as one would fashion a washed-up plimsoll
on an African beach into a child’s butterfly
mobile. You see what remains when I am
nearly undressed. I stop bending
into graves. The juggernaut leaves
my mind. The full svelte moon performs
callisthenics on the white-washed kitchen
wall. God is backing into a corner. I mouth
I love you from my blue-smacked
lips. We sink to our knees. We are on
the territory of you and me, subtracted
from the territory of hogs in the sky, multiplied
by the territory of falling over backwards
to land on the territory of swelling waves
and buttons snapping, books flying and
the night lunging downwards over our heads.
(Image 'Heart Print' New Year's Day Lanzarote 09)
For God’s Sake (And One for My Baby)
Like a crayoned cat, I am watching you.
There is silence, with cat’s whiskers.
There is orange peel around the moon.
We stand in front of the fridge,
we begin to talk. I want you
to fashion me into something new,
as one would fashion a washed-up plimsoll
on an African beach into a child’s butterfly
mobile. You see what remains when I am
nearly undressed. I stop bending
into graves. The juggernaut leaves
my mind. The full svelte moon performs
callisthenics on the white-washed kitchen
wall. God is backing into a corner. I mouth
I love you from my blue-smacked
lips. We sink to our knees. We are on
the territory of you and me, subtracted
from the territory of hogs in the sky, multiplied
by the territory of falling over backwards
to land on the territory of swelling waves
and buttons snapping, books flying and
the night lunging downwards over our heads.
(Image 'Heart Print' New Year's Day Lanzarote 09)
posted by Liz at 6:03 am
18 Comments:
There's a great dance going on in this. The graves are particularly enigmatic.
x
Ooh, I love this very grown up love poem!
"We are on the territory of you and me". This piece is full of little gems like that. Very unusual phrasing and will reward multiple readings I think.
I want you //to fashion me into something new.
Nice.
Not sure what the juggernaut's about though
Thanks for reading...¡Viva el amour! and all the rest... ; )
Some gorgeous images in this Liz, and the picture with it is just perfect.
"...buttons snapping, books flying and
the night lunging downwards over our heads."
Loved this...steamy!
Dark and strangely erotic. I love the thread of the images throughout, the juxtapositions and the sense of just two people in a complex world throughout.
We stand in front of the fridge,
we begin to talk. I want you
to fashion me into something new,
as one would fashion a washed-up plimsoll
on an African beach into a child’s butterfly
mobile.
Seriously intriguing. I thought this whole poem was fantastic - fast paced and furious and just brilliant.
Wow. That's just great that is - sexy, smooth and..... scary!
Classic Gallagher, the Gal is back in town, spread the word around!
This bears multiple readings and the more I read, the more I see, including the images of schools and childhood. Even with the release of their coming together, I feel a deep sadness permeating the whole poem.
cheers for reading, enjoyed your comments! ; )
"to fashion me into something new,
as one would fashion a washed-up plimsoll
on an African beach into a child’s butterfly
mobile." ~ I love this image!
Also..."God's backing into a corner..." Such a profound statement there regarding faith.
Wonderful, Liz! Thank you for this one!
Thanks, Jeanne, really pleased you enjoyed it! : )
"to fashion me into something new,
as one would fashion a washed-up plimsoll
on an African beach into a child’s butterfly
mobile."
Had me watching The Constant Gardener in my mind - intercut with Caravaggio and his missus in In the Skin of a Lion.
Had never thought to splice such imagery but it's made a brill wee head film!
Thanks, Rachel, much enjoyed the roll of that wee head film...; )
A glorious poem. Love the imagery, the honesty.
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