The glass falls like petals in my hands
A trail of candy
To nowhere sweet
I have collection points
Different places
Each place has a meaning
Each piece of glass a different use
But the same use
You know
I touch the edges
Trap the dirt on the skin of my fingers
Wipe my fingers on my jacket
Lick my fingers clean
I do not falter in my collection
I falter looking up
I do not know what the postman wants
From me
Perhaps I should give him my name
It’s only letters after all
I fold the bag in the dark
Ready for tomorrow
My collection
I look at my bare feet
Hot and bulging under the blanket
A little brown
It would be easy now
To touch me
To find the trail of blood inside
Maybe that’s what the postman wants
To touch me
The bag rustles like splinters
Acorn blades passing by the window
Tears I would rather not own
chopping cutting choking
I swallow emotion
Like splinters
No sweet candy
In my hand
I will wait for next time.
hold on and fight that's what this really says. well written Jaerose.
ReplyDeleteThe ritual. The release. The sadness. The determination. It is all here, Jae. This poem is so open and honest and direct; I wish your pen (keyboard :-) ) could serve you as well as the glass.
ReplyDeleteThank you Sheilagh..always fighting..
ReplyDeleteIt does Kim..thank you..(pencils are good too!)..
Well written beautiful
ReplyDeleteWriting is a wonderful release, isn't it. Your pieces always tug at my heart. Keep writing.
ReplyDeleteHaunting, Jaerose. I enjoy your work very much and always look forward to a reading.
ReplyDeleteAll I see is emotion, raw, real life and being exorcised from you onto a page, the screen, and out of your system. The tears are good too because each one takes a tiny bit more of all that troubles your mind away with it.
ReplyDeleteLovely writing Jae.
Even the postman may have a sad story to tell. I don't know about touching you and your little brown feet but you touch us with words that makes us want to wrap you up safely.
ReplyDeleteThis is so compelling as always, Jae. That's what I love about your poetry.
ReplyDeleteI think we all collect things. We can collect painful things like broken glass, or things that soothe and comfort us. It's always a choice. It's even okay to collect a little of both.
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't get to friendly with the postman, though. If he's anything like mine, he'll only bring bills.
I think Oldegg said it all...you touch us very deep...Jae.. I am late but I am here..thanks for the treat..that I have started taking for guaranteed here.. have a haiku weaved with these three words..have a look Jae..thanks..
ReplyDeleteRS:)
I think we have to allow the tears sometimes, as they are cleansing...as is writing, which is better than swallowing the emotion! Another well-penned poem, Jae.
ReplyDeleteThank you Dee..
ReplyDeleteThank you Mary-Ann..no plans to stop scribbling as yet..
Thank you Ellecee always good to read your comments..
Thank you Daydreamer..losing a trouble on a tear is good..
Best approached with caution..or with a poking stick..it's true OldEgg..thank you.. ;)
Thank you very much Laurie..
The end of letter writing may well be here but bills keep on coming..thank you Ann..collecting a (dolly) mixture of good and not so good is a wise thought..
Not late Ramesh..just on time..thank you as always..
Thank you Mary..they don't taste good at times do they..
Ah, such unneeded pain. Here the postal carrier has been turned into a person when really, he doesn't need it. He just wants to get the job done.
ReplyDeleteI think of collections as something to sit back and admire or listen to; so I wonder what each place means and what is each pieces use.
ReplyDeleteI really like "I swallow my emotions like splinters." it really captures the agony and pain.
You're probably right Alice..although maybe there is some good left to be shared..amongst the splinters..thank you..
ReplyDeleteYes, hadn't thought of that RMP thank you..a physical collection of something is very satisfying to mantain..
collecting painful thoughts and emotions are a compulsive hobby
ReplyDeletefor some of us and you illustrate
this with your poem as well as
elevated someone else as the bearer
of the 'something' we think we need
seems as if the narrator is eschewing what is deemed to be
happy or enjoyable, imagining sweetness as glass.
Thank you for your insight Paige+Shauna..a false sweetness..yes..we do collect..maybe share a little in these pages too..which is a real sweetness..
ReplyDeleteI stopped by to read it again. Fine work!
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Mary Ann..
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written! A lovely little bag of splinters.
ReplyDeleteThank you Annell..maybe we can roll them like marbles in the rain..make a picture x
ReplyDelete