A Girl Cries Upon Seeing a Solitary Magpie
"Magpie - why do we have wires in our throats,
and whys, and watery whippet tanks that become wilting veins with age?"
Why do you mourn?
"I see myself as an old anarchy and my imperfections
are wrought with woe, I will die and you will die and no one will know."
When it reaches out over your skin, and past your breath like a hungry wind,
you will know. You will heel your centurian's
nuance between the home of the heart and the pain of letting go
and make constellations as bright as fingertips
webbing weddings of paths that do not steal footsteps
to hide in but to show.
Why fear my loneliness?
my tears are not celebrities for an audience to swallow,
and you are not a vase to borrow,
or a severed larynx lost in the hollow arm of another,
when you cry, you love
like music does for a sorrow -
beautiful and raw -
in ways that no one else could know.
Cynthia Buell Thomas
Wed 3rd Mar 2010 12:35
I enjoyed this conversational style. The poem has some marvellous, novel images and thought associations.
'Am i writing in a really abstract way?' Marianne, you have to be teasing.