poem: Satin Sheets and Tiger Claws

poem: Satin Sheets and Tiger Claws

A Chapter by Marie Anzalone
"

"in our roughness we are tender, and this becomes our religion"

"

"and everything depends upon/ how near you sleep to me...

oh take this longing from my tongue/ all the lonely things my hands have done"- L. Cohen

 

 

 

and tonight, I drew you in shadows

     because the streets narrowed as the sun went down

   behind my back

         and I thought I saw something flicker

    in an empty lot where children play their own version of soccer

avoiding glass shards

               and dialogue.

 

we could make it if only reality

    were not always getting in the damned way of things.

 

but such is the way of shadows

    and children, and empty lots in hearts everywhere

      we sometimes play at children's games

knowing much more

      than dialogue was forever at stake,

           and feigning toughness as only children

finding their way in barrios devoid of affection

    could ever invent.

 

In our roughness we are tender-

    and this becomes our religion;

       Philosophy and morality tied into one breath

one sigh, a pushing in, a pulling out

      moments stolen recklessly of lives

          lived in limitations of streets while dreaming

of long walks on beaches and candlelit dinners

        and time for a gaze to coalesce

in spaces tended by the the caress of gentle winds, soft rains.

 

knowing that all we could get is the tempest-

   she would be here, she would be memorable,

        she would be achingly sweet

and deadly and divinely breathtaking

      and everything passionate

           two souls will ever, could ever... ask;

equal parts satin sheets and tiger claws;

    roses and predatory stalking

          through the streets where shadows play at sundown.

 

and she is ours if we want her.

 

sweet lilies nod in time

    and we think in cycles, in seasons, in dust

in the songs of warblers

       and the coming of rains;

shoe merchants hawk their wares and we walk on

   and fruit vendors divine our fortunes in seed patterns

and this is the way of us.

      We can and do only speak of today, this street

that striped ball in a forgotten field

       green grass strewn with broken glass... like them,

we punt that ball carefully around the cow grazing

               in the middle of all things.

 

if I had any courage left to ask

    it would be this...

        give me just one chance

to set aside barrio cynicism, trapped sparrows

         ashes and begging. Give me

one night, breath to breath, heart to heart

   let me feel your soul cry from its trapped space

into my open mouth, let me

   imagine just once that I am normal,

     that I could be yours, only-

          that I could be free in a house;

could never imagine waking up

     another single lonely damned dawn

on earth. Let me retract my claws,

        embrace you into the space between my breasts,

scented like lilies.

 

When the rains come, we can pretend

     they are the gentle kind that nurtures the span

of lives spent remembering how

      children can be so tough

            and so very unafraid when the sun goes down

after their game.

                 

 

 

 

 

 

 



© 2013 Marie Anzalone


My Review

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Featured Review

Another fantastic one from you Marie, this one had so much longing for fulfillment beyond just physical passion, for a greater dialogue then what children have, for two bodies to connect on that deeper level, if only...
And as always I love the style you write your poems with, they always read like letters straight to the heart.
Horizon

Posted 11 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

11 Years Ago

Thanks for your words, Horizon. I believe my own words come through that way because I have never le.. read more
Horizon K.

11 Years Ago

Well I'm glad you don't hold back Marie, it's beautiful this way. I think if a poet wants the reade.. read more



Reviews

Another fantastic one from you Marie, this one had so much longing for fulfillment beyond just physical passion, for a greater dialogue then what children have, for two bodies to connect on that deeper level, if only...
And as always I love the style you write your poems with, they always read like letters straight to the heart.
Horizon

Posted 11 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

11 Years Ago

Thanks for your words, Horizon. I believe my own words come through that way because I have never le.. read more
Horizon K.

11 Years Ago

Well I'm glad you don't hold back Marie, it's beautiful this way. I think if a poet wants the reade.. read more
it's so perfect, words after my own heart, i shall hold them close and celebrate the strength and the weakness

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

11 Years Ago

yes, my freind, you understand those connections in words and certainties most could only spemnd mos.. read more
Sounds almost in parts like a contemporary Song of Solomon. The lace like intracacies, the subtle turn of phrase all combine to make an excellent love poem from an experienced heart.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

11 Years Ago

Thank you, Ken. Your words and insights are always appreciated on my page... I admit I was actually .. read more
Ken Simm.

11 Years Ago

I am honoured.
So much to absorb in this, I am in awe that so many have visited, yet only 1 review so far?
There is a vast amount of symbolizm to me, along with some raw emotions still sorting themselves out...it made me smile and yet sad in turns.

xxGG

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

11 Years Ago

Ah dear Gypsy, I find that I recive very few reviews relative to reads on most of my work. I often w.. read more
[send message][befriend] Subscribe
.
seems ever so familiar...

well done, Marie

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marie Anzalone

11 Years Ago

thank you for stopping by, pronoun. I decided to check out some of your work to see what you meant b.. read more

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Added on January 28, 2013
Last Updated on April 1, 2013

Peregrinating North-South Compass Points


Author

Marie Anzalone
Marie Anzalone

Xecaracoj, Quetzaltenango, Guatemala



About
Bilingual (English and Spanish) poet, essayist, novelist, grant writer, editor, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to ta.. more..

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