Blue Bells

In our marriage bed, lust will lie

In the middle like a feverish child

As the cat purrs down the hall

And the coffee waits to be brewed.

 

Our bodies will know divorce

After our skin weeps and voids

Are choked gently, violently

Like cellos filling with salt water.

 

Dogs will bark in the night,

Their growls like your fingers

Running through my hair,

Playing my dream's harpsichord.

Author's Note

Image from http://sporadictouchofennui.deviantart.com/art/new-bed-63835845

Reviews

[shel]

the feverish child (simultaneously) binds and divides...this metaphor works wonderfully, on many levels. and cellos filling with salt water is lovely, there's something surreal about it. actually, when i read this, what came to mind for me was the image of a solitary instrument, physically taken out of context...and the distortion of sound as the water filled the body. i stumbled a bit on the 6th line, reading 'voids' as a verb...wondering if there should be a comma after 'weeps'. or maybe you wanted to assign 'void' a dual meaning with that line break? that makes sense as well…i guess it all depends on your intent. other than that, the only thing i’d suggest is cutting ‘blue‘ from the 9th line, and just going with ‘bells‘. it almost steals a bit of thunder from ‘blue notes screaming’, and you’ve got the title going for you already. you’ve always had an affinity for harpsichords, i’ve noticed, lol…the final lines are great though. i think this is my favorite of your more recent poems.

[Brad]

i felt like i had to stand after reading this one and applaud. wow! you nailed it, man, better than anything i could ever conjure

[Ms. Gruye]

I enjoyed your constant return to musical instruments in ruin. by the by, good choice of Tori's sugar of your profile player.

viva la

[wolfshrew]

Oh goodness, you describe beautifully.

[Aimee Mahathy]

Oh wow I like this! :D
I love how it exposes the internal and unspoken dialogues that go on in a burnt-out marriage~ So subtle yet strong
I loved this!

[Alessander]

like the opening stanza, the play on word "Lust will lie" can be interpreted both, as personification of a baby lying or a person lieing...also love the contrast between Lust, a highly charged concept, and the mundane cats and coffe.

Like cellos filling with salt water...Great image. It baffles me, yet lures me. "Blue notes screaming" is a little odd when compared to the eaze of sleep and fingers running along... but perhaps that was the point. Don't know if I like/dislike "Harpsicord of my sleep" hmmmmm