Parting Company

And always be prepared to speak the hope that is within you...

As I crouch in my corner

Knees bent, unbalanced

I note the popping sound when I stand

The subtle hint of yesterday’s fish paper

And the underlying glimpse of black cloth

Left by a certain reaper.

 

I listen for the hint of a wing

Soft moth fur on my face

The warm scent of laundered silk.

 I welcome a widow’s love after long absence.

Her calloused touch soothes the fever

And death takes a subservient bow

Moving away from the light.

 

If I gaze out at the world

I cannot see the face

That special face

Unless it is through stained glass

From the inside out

Making the least snack

Seem like the main dish

And all is well.

 

Don’t misunderstand.

The numinous porch light

Is as sacred as the bourbon on the grave

And if God blesses, it is through the body

The sinewy meat that turns

Inviting consumption, offering blood.

 

So take a candle and a prayer

And race them to heaven.

Come expecting anything but what you imagine

And then understand that bliss is bought and paid

With hard wood and metal

Currency we’ll never understand

But which call the question regarding love

And surrender.

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

This is weighty--in the best sense, as opposed to ponderous. There is so much here--love and loss, and the ethereal and the tangible as they relate to those two--and the construction is so elegant, the imagery familiar yet fresh at the same time (e.g, the reference to the grim reaper in the opening stanza, the reference as to what I'm guessing is the host at the end of the fourth stanza) that, in combination, the resulting product is just flat-out breathtaking, top-shelf writing.

[Raef C. Boylan]

This seems, to me, dark and lovely at the same time. There's a streak of morbidity running right through it, which put a bitter-sweet twist [again, for me] on the mentions of love because, as W.k.kortas mentions, it touches on the ethereal and tangible...the impermeance of it all; it felt like a 'how little it all means in the big picture' commentary.
I liked
"Don't misunderstand.
The numinous porch light
Is as sacred as the bourbon on the grave" - although I'm not completely sure why.

This isn't a poem easily dissected and analysed, so I'll settle for enjoying it and pondering.
Thanks to Emily Burns for sharing it, and you for posting it.

[Emily B]

It seems like it was written especially for a friend. I see her in between the lines. We find ourselves in the darndest places.

[Tomás Ó C..]

Great imagery in this poem.

[Damian Alan Gray]

Absolutely brilliant! This poem is so evocotive that it sent chills down my spine, and continues to do so.