poetry; mother tongue (spn)
Posting more old poetry to try and shake off some writer's block.
This was my first try exercising this kind of writing and I think it's a good stepping-off block for really developing my own style. It's an SPN fanpoem based on the idea that the brothers know each other so well that they're more well-versed in each others' body language than they are with words.
fandom: supernatural
title: mother tongue
Mother Tongue
My hands remember, fold around stock
and under barrel; arm and shoulders the
flex, the sight, how to pull
the trigger, but it’s the desert
pull and swelter, your shirt dirty and
your hands sure, grin quick, the
way our clothes were tacky that
I think of; your abandon, the swell
of pride at your praise that comes
to me when I fire. Relief always
feels like your shove, my gloat,
the dirt shower from under
my boot but I always catch myself,
you always grin back. I can feel it
stretch to my ears, even replaced
now by your hand on the door, eyes
meeting over the roof and the creak,
the sound the door opening, you
and your carefree; heavy bodies sinking
into leather. We speak without
speaking, fluent in each other. Even
now I translate, too long
immersed in that second learned
language, the discourse of words
and whys, and not copper casings;
not the language of men but
the syllables we learned by heart:
your hands on the wheel, my recline.
Even now I know them, even
blind I know them. Tell me
without a grin this time, give
me first shower; say my name with-
out the letters but with the gun
pressed from your hand to mine. Don’t
listen to what I say. Order my coffee,
unfold the map, point me
back to the desert, skinny limbs, my
thin bones. I’ll carry the words
on dry tongue, hide them, only bring
them out to play. I want to speak always
in a language you will understand. Roll
my shoulders, thumb on the safety and
you’re happy to see you there, in
my muscle memory. Our shouts
go up in the swallowing sky.
-
I'm quite fond of this; my class interpreted it in a lot of ways, but I think the context (as a fanpoem) helps.
This was my first try exercising this kind of writing and I think it's a good stepping-off block for really developing my own style. It's an SPN fanpoem based on the idea that the brothers know each other so well that they're more well-versed in each others' body language than they are with words.
fandom: supernatural
title: mother tongue
Mother Tongue
My hands remember, fold around stock
and under barrel; arm and shoulders the
flex, the sight, how to pull
the trigger, but it’s the desert
pull and swelter, your shirt dirty and
your hands sure, grin quick, the
way our clothes were tacky that
I think of; your abandon, the swell
of pride at your praise that comes
to me when I fire. Relief always
feels like your shove, my gloat,
the dirt shower from under
my boot but I always catch myself,
you always grin back. I can feel it
stretch to my ears, even replaced
now by your hand on the door, eyes
meeting over the roof and the creak,
the sound the door opening, you
and your carefree; heavy bodies sinking
into leather. We speak without
speaking, fluent in each other. Even
now I translate, too long
immersed in that second learned
language, the discourse of words
and whys, and not copper casings;
not the language of men but
the syllables we learned by heart:
your hands on the wheel, my recline.
Even now I know them, even
blind I know them. Tell me
without a grin this time, give
me first shower; say my name with-
out the letters but with the gun
pressed from your hand to mine. Don’t
listen to what I say. Order my coffee,
unfold the map, point me
back to the desert, skinny limbs, my
thin bones. I’ll carry the words
on dry tongue, hide them, only bring
them out to play. I want to speak always
in a language you will understand. Roll
my shoulders, thumb on the safety and
you’re happy to see you there, in
my muscle memory. Our shouts
go up in the swallowing sky.
-
I'm quite fond of this; my class interpreted it in a lot of ways, but I think the context (as a fanpoem) helps.