she draw so fast she shoot a vein.
they say the nerves zap in her head
she say her words shoot sharper (she said,
my words lodge worse than lead)
she sayed oh yes I hate to talk
agreeing with her man. he balked. she saw
the wound: his words sulked off
with his tale between his legs she thought
(she thought a silent thought)
revising feelings, feeling lucky
she calls back from northern kentucky
the gesture, the dialogue, the cast out line
may reel him in she hopes in time
(she hopes in 4:4 time)
from memphis, over the telephone's plumb
she needed words, no deadair hum
no good a kiss, no good a face,
she payed out a yarn and walked into the maze
(and prayed the yarn would lead her out again)
the metaphorical maze gets cozy:
with he and she and the monster dozing.
yarn winds a skein, brain wends in the skull
and the story don't end but doublecrosses itself
(crosses back and embraces itself)
3 comments:
(she hopes in 4:4 time)
I like this. No, I don't have critical comments, but I do have praise now that I'm finally signed onto this blog. I think I can here a Ken Rumble rumble in the parentheses of this poem. Well, I'll say it again, I like this whimsy poem.
Mississippi catfish. You've become a musician. The words sometimes get lost in the music but it's a willing sacrifice. The language bends "she shoot a vein" "humno good a kiss, no,/good a face" You've created a new language and vocabulary for your writing and achieved transformation.
also reading it aloud again I like it for its play, for the laugh in it.
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