A Lovesong for Lot's Wife

I may feel a quiet bit of timid,
a sour bitter bite of sweet staining
on hearts, on lips, open
like berries, where the clasp
of their branch sat, the
divet of a mouth
on body avenues, around
hips above bone, ground
into earthly expressions, you raise
your voice but kindly pronounce
all my measures, I won't wear
no bonnet, I cannot promise
I will not look, nor bear
no force, (or false witness) I
have worked too hard,
hedging my sense
of belonging, my purpose but
I've always wanted to
belong to you,
I won't wear through.
The holes I have are (in my heart,
bare my knees and my underbelly)
from where your words
colliding in other wars already,
all ready like the love,
and the damage, spills hungrily
through; like the pink heat
blesses
lightning in bolts,
of cloth, and locks and cocked
triggers. the night comes
and the thunder quivers, like arrows full
of messages I wrote, brimstone
in parchment, in sand.
time or tide will erase it all, smote
into piles of salt, (no
bland deserts here) and all
before I can ever prove
the width and depth
of my worth

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

Wonderful use of indirect allusion (if such a term indeed exists)--not only with the "piles of salt", but of brimstone and parchment and false witness as well. It is, as the learned Emily implies, wonderfully understated--the muted notion of faith and fidelity as opposed to Faith writ large. This is wonderful writing; it is a fine mix of high learning and true-to-life emotion.

[TL Boehm]

this one spills across the page in a tumble of words that make the mind spin...exquisite writing. Thanks to Em for sending it my way.

[Emily B]

I want to write like this. I want to string my words on songs this strong. The timid breath is all so often the most powerful. Lightning bolts couldn't have startled me more -- today.