As you well know, my tether to planet earth is rather tenuous

Those vines couldn't have crept more

subtly into these ventricles.

Subtle as a secret

subtle as snipped wingtips and weak drinks.

Their spider weight didn't trip the alarms,

I had no chance to wield the weed whacker

before they'd breached the reaches

of my branching veins.

You sneaky heart attack, you.

If only I could pinch your cheek now,

wag my finger, nah ah ah ha ha ha...

you got me, you cheeky m**********r.

Checkmate.

I texted you once the damage was done,

roughly 18 hours had passed,

we had just parted for the first time,

you headed back home 6 hours away.

A fluke, us meeting like that.

Will you marry me? I half joked,

and we laughed,

neither of us certain of either half.

Was it reality where we met?

Its name is obsession,

that clinical voice would say later,

the omnipotent voice of evolutionary biology,

and I would scoff and brush off

those words like spiders,

ignoring my arachnaphobia,

ignoring even, the textbook red hourglass

on those black lacquered bellies.

And even later I would dream of drawers

teeming with spiders,

the rest of my life waiting beneath.

I recall my little brother wailing midair, once

as my enraged father flung him off a boat

like a shotput.

My brothers' life jacket would represent

my fathers' empty threats,

but what does a 6 year old know of emptiness.

I am all the stillness and quiet of my then

10 year old self learning detachment

as the best way to remain whole.

Yet for some reason now I want to grip

your face and shake you,

No, I WANT you to break me.

I had to try and convince you

no no no, I LIKE flaking paint

and pants frayed at the ankles,

I think Louis Vuitton is a waste of money

and makeup is the place where people hide their beauty.

But I didn't say any of that and you didn't listen.

You nodded slowly when I once said

hate is often indistinguishable from love

so it isn't exactly a shrug,

the shape my shoulders have taken

now that you hate me,

it's just that

we agreed love isn't the alternative.

now I am faced with

how to write the end of the story

when the delusion isn't over.

Author's Note

Working on coherence here

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is incredible....this reminds me of Sexton or Levertov...it is so in your face with the flashbacks, the flashforwards---i think in part the speaker wants to grab herself and shake herself of the delusion...but at the same time, love is not alternative...it just is what it is...and it grips us, regardless of how old we are...

i had felt this when i was very young...and for me...it was very, very real.

j.

[M. Shepherd]

You are very right - the speaker would very much like to shake herself free but life keeps on happening.
Thank you for the thoughts :)

[Ed Hart]

a poem is such a personal thing; there's nakedness to it, and freedom...to me the words are a window to the person...it's always the person, the poetry is pure blood

[M. Shepherd]

:) you said it, and say it, always.
Words are blood cells in how we spell out our insides. read more:) you said it, and say it, always.
Words are blood cells in how we spell out our insides.
Thank you for the thoughts :)

[mattavelli]

I enjoyed reading this beautifully written poem, but the fifth section had me concerned for a ten year old with an aching crush.

[M. Shepherd]

I'm not sure what you mean, explain more?

[mattavelli]

Sure, you transition to another time: "I recall my little brother wailing midair once,"
The phrasing threw me. I read "once" as "one time", instead of "once upon a time", so all the previous feelings seemed to be coming from a ten year old.

[M. Shepherd]

I think both "once" or "one time" can refer to a long time ago though, that's my understanding. I appreciate you pointing out that possible confusion, I'll take a further look at it.

[mattavelli]

Sure :)
I recall my sister jumped once, as I startled her.
I recall, once my sister jumped as I startled her.

[M. Shepherd]

Oh oh ok I see what you're saying, sorry, linguistics are tricky sometimes haha, I read your "one time" as "once upon a time" despite you very clearly distinguishing right afterward that you did not mean that. OK I've fixed that part.

[. serah .]

-- from my perspective, out of all the pieces that you've posted, this is the most brutally beautiful one... -- i really don't have words to describe the indescribable feeling you've successfully portrayed... -- because of my own story and the prism through which i read anything, i relate most to the part about where science meets emotions... or not... and if how we feel can ever be diagnosed (technically defined)... -- reminds me of what you said about only poetry being able to express the stages of depression and grief... those internal injuries or responses to painful occurrences in our lives...

-- further, an individual's story and context are just too unique... so is the manner in which we express them... -- your voice is infinitely poetic and it has gone through fire to be what it is... -- i don't know exactly how it helps to read or write... but i can tell you that when i read a piece like this... which is nothing but a complex, multi-layered, multi-textured symphony, i feel somewhere deep down in my little girl heart that someone, somewhere knows exactly how life is... with its millions of webs and complications... and an unending ache for simplicity and coherence... -- i think we are what we strive to be despite everything that gets in the way (constantly)... (i know this is not really a review but i hope you can tell from my comment how powerfully moving and poignant this post is)...

[M. Shepherd]

Oh gosh Serah thank you, you are always too effusive with praise. I'm glad it affected you so much. It's never easy to convey the story the way it happened and felt and this is not my first attempt at conveying the most important story. The other attempts I was unhappy with. It's taken a while to process it to a place of getting it right on paper. A long, long process. I love the way you expound on the ideas in the poem, I'm always learning something, as I am now, and also given so much more to think about.

[. serah .]

-- you're very welcome, Marcie... -- you've given me plenty to think about as well and i'm truly glad about that...

[Ed Hart]

serah, i don't thing there's anyone in these parts that can fathom a poem the way you do, and expound on their insights with such depth and clarity...those of us who collect the benefit of your prime thoughts are fortunate at least times six...

[. serah .]

-- oh, wow... -- i'm overwhelmed and humbled by your words, Maestro Ed... thank you so much...

[M. Shepherd]

Ed said it :)

[. serah .]

-- you and Maestro Ed are super precious people... :)