Ophelia is swimming
In the green afternoon,
I watch her from the trees.
She can burn fire through water and
She is not afraid.
My legs dangle from above like white branches.
I do not jump.
I envy her too much.
And I return in years, in many years
Later. To collect the bones
That stack in piles like memories stack.
Each one is hollowed, the marrow- a feast
For the birds, and the splinters –
Their smooth shell becomes a cream
Colored afterthought.
What to do with such novelties of time?
Manufacture them on strings,
Gather wood for a fire, hope for wind,
And listen to the soft chimes of the past.
5 comments:
"Afterthought" shares a similar image of childhood fearlessness offered in Brent's "Shift." This image resonates with me because, maybe moreso than the norm, I've become more fearful with age (or maybe more aware?). There seems to be so little action in my life anymore, only meticulously rationalized reaction: I rarely experience the afterthought. I can't smush that spider, because I cannot help but imagine its legs giving in and its entire body imploding like a grape. This poem, and "Shift," won't motivate me to go on a serial spider killing spree, but they do inspire me to live a bit more.
Very nice, Brandi.
I love your use of imagery. This poem is very visual, and yet the metaphor is so ever present and strong throughout from start to finish.
There seems to be a reccurent theme of the past between this and "The Kitchen Table." Are you working on a collection? Both poems seem to complement each other very well in terms of theme.
I like the idea of memories being stacked in piles. Photographs and postcards and other physical mementos are often stacked in piles. It's so simple, but extremely vivid.
There's so much calm in your work. I think that for a while I have been wanting to write these frenetic pieces, but reading your poetry makes me want to slow mine down. I want it to take a breath and flow. Good stuff.
Your poetry has a way of sweeping the reader up and taking him/her away to a different place/time and this poem is no exception. What I like most about the poem is the last four lines. A lot of my prose focuses on memory and how it influences the present so the last four lines have a resounding effect on me. The image works so well because you incorporate sight, touch, and sound and you state it so simply. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for the insights. Yes, Tim I am working (or trying to work on) a collection. You all are very inspiring.
Ps, I'm going out of town until Tuseday, I'll try to write, if possible.
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