God,I Miss Turning Seattle Around My Thumb.

God, I remember her voice, she knew...

        how to wrap her fingers so eloquently around my curls, and years spun like gold through her fingertips, I knew I'd captured sunrise, I knew how to smile...

Here, in the center of April, I'm breaking, the sun forgot to set yesterday and Thursday laughed at me with her defiance, I'm

        cracking

                down the

        middle

and the afternoon isn't breaking through....

It's not so simple, life has tangled through me and my curls are falling, I imagine it's more heartbreaking that he doesn't understand and I'm still as a picture collecting dust on his shelf....

        does he see the colors fading

                time washing me out, does he notice

        the fear

inside my eyes?

Her fingers donned themselves with silver, collected through the states she used to set her toes in,

she used to wear Seattle on her thumb,

Carolina on her pinky finger...

but Seattle tumbled into nowhere somewhere in Pennsylvania...

and, there, beneath the kitchen sink,

she forgot to care...

she's lost, somewhere deep inside the cracks of me, smiling and weaving sunrise through her fingertips, while I cry...

        for her and I

                and the disappearance of sunset...

on Thursday.

 

Reviews

[fireblossom]

That is a wonderful poem. The words, the tone, the layout of the text, all wonderful.

Have a cookie Jeanmarie.

Revisit - I was a tired poet when I first read this piece. I wanted to give you something more.

You scene think, and paint it on a canvas with colors close to the original but separate enough to interest the reader. My brain is good enough to paint the truth of what you are showing. As long as you don't get gimmicky (and you don't) I won't get distracted from painting you with the colors you offer. This poem stayed authentic throughout leaving me in peace and paint.

So nice.

[Chuck]

Hauntingly familiar and most certainly all you.

[Perdition]

Seattle and Sunrise in the same line...wow. Military child I'm thinking . That yearly transfer or the gypsy soul born again into curls and poetry . So many "states" of mind here and just like the nearby Puget Sound...Those San Juan Islands ..this writing is just a great place to gather the earth within. No bullshit...Thanks~

[Serend1p1ty]

You're greatest talent here is your style of description.
It's wonderful. You suck the reader right in.
I'll admit, the full essence of the poem escapes me, but I still see the skill here.
Great write.

Yours truly,
cloud6

[Forest Green]

Metaphors, poetic and thoughtful, trace lines across the map; across the heart; and along the lanes of memory.

Very special poem. Seattle to Pennsylvania--I know what you mean.

[An owl on the moon]

I stopped breathing when I read this, moving so slowly through the space and time of words and wonders...
Deeply feel the emotion laced through each letter: "does he see the colors fading - time washing me out, does he notice the fear inside my eyes?" Such a depth of life and love...

[DavidRyan]

This is awesome. Everything from the title to the ending is done so well. I love the story . The loss, the hope, the disappointment, and the prayer that "she" will return. Well done. The only thing I would change it in the 4th line, I'd put a period after, "I'm breaking" instead of the comma...the comma is such a short break, that you don't realize, until after you're done with it, that you've read two different thoughts. Other than that, amazing.

[Kara Emily Krantz]

and once again I am reminded why I love you so much. For the rest of my life, you will always mean so goddamn much to me. You have inspired me, my writing, my life. I have found solace in the mere knowledge that you are in the world with me.



"life has tangled through me and my curls are falling, I imagine it's more heartbreaking that he doesn't understand"

gorgeous.

'does he see the colors fading


time washing me out, does he notice


the fear"

he should. you know. and without your colors... :(


"she's lost, somewhere deep inside the cracks of me, smiling and weaving sunrise through her fingertips, while I cry...


for her"


You're amazing. Seriously. But I've already told you that again and again. I wish you could hear how my heart feels for you. i want you to have every joy in this life. Again, on the other hand, I want you to feel everything to the extremes that you do, because you create ART like this. It's a scary, sometimes dangerous web we weave. I love you.

Kara