In a Rainy Country

"new title, significant tightening of the screws"

Traveling south, along the frost line, 

looking for a place to burrow the satchel 

of bones I’d stitched too tight -- 

I stumbled through the smoke 

singed drifts of neon towards the back of a cherry

black stool just vacated -- one eye 

on the splintered cue balanced against 

the denim skinned thigh, finger 

licking skull splatter, tossing curls 

off strawberry ash an almost aureole invitation. 

It was Drake’s day -- always was 

whenever -- a celebration to all the waves 

and byways I’d jolly rogered the globe; 

an obnubilation of the illimitable 

ravening tucked inside the desert boots, 

the shy Bedouin smile of a St. Aldate’s raider.  

Let the choir boys sing on Sundays, blink code 

across the pews to the doe-eyed Madonna’s 

wrapped in their muslin arraignments --

god and I had parted somewhere west of twenty. 

I have a streak of the b*****d in me:

sins, and sinners, are not nouns in my vocabulary. 

Conceived too soon, the love I’ve known

was always a transactional gambol, 

a thrust and parry of wants to needs --

an itch, akin to being cooped up inside 

a rainy country. Whatever chords one sawed 

between the sheets was just the currency of immediacy -- 

a want for a want -- the un-penning 

of the most ancient of aches. 

It took an hour to do the math, 

to step out the distance, 

to whether the possibilities, 

if rolling out of a bed the next morning 

might incur unforeseen expenses. 

When I left for the airport 

she blew me a kiss goodbye --

I left her an old number just in case 

she held on to the illusion 

her name was really Magdalena.

Ken e Bujold

Reviews

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

“a celebration to all the waves
and byways I’d jolly rogered the globe;
an obnubilation of the illimitable
ravening tucked inside the desert boots, “
Ken, I am in awe of you and your brilliant write. This is a mastery of style, words, images, metaphors, vivid vignettes/memories and deft references. A mesmerizing journey. Kudos!
P.S. thank you again for the browser suggestions. Much appreciated!

[Ken e Bujold]

thank you ever so much for the kindness of your review Annette.

[W. Barrett Munn]

Standing ovation, here, from the cheap seats. (all I can afford.)
I see this as some of your finest work, Ken. The images read easily and the metaphors dead on. It feels honest and personal but not too much of either. Un-penning the most ancient of aches is a killer.
Well done, pard.

Winston

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks for the ovation my friend. quite proud myself of how it turned out.

[AYVID N]

Love is felt and experienced differently by everyone. If love suits one as a transactional gambol then that's how it should be experienced with a like-minded person. As long as one enjoys the ride. That is the most important thing after all said and done. I appreciate the candid expression here.
There are many awesome lines in this poem which I loved such as the one below:
"god and I parted ways somewhere west of twenty.
Sin, and sinning, are not nouns in my vocabulary;"
I enjoyed reading this refreshingly different poem.

[Red Brick Keshner]

It sometimes is really about the illusions that we hold on to! Hoping for Florida winters and summers further up north, New England perhaps.