on the point of crossing
Crossposting! Wave of the future!
Ahem.
Let's see if this works.
Today's poem:
Jewel Box
Your jewel box of white balsa strips
and bleached green Czechoslovakian rushes
stands open where you keep it shelved
in the bathroom. Morning and evening
I see you comb its seawrack tangle of shell,
stone, wood, glass, metal, bone, seed
for the bracelet, earring, necklace, brooch
or ring you need. Here's brass from Nepal,
a bangle of African ivory and chased silver
for your wrist, a twist of polished
sandalwood seeds, deep scarlet,
gleaming like the fossil tears
of some long-gone exotic bird
with ruby crest, sapphire claws. Adriatic
blue, this lapis lazuli disc will brighten
the pale of your throat, and on this small
alabaster seal-ring the phantom of light
inscribes a woman tilting an amphora, clear
as day, almost as old as Alexander. To the
ebony velvet brim of your hat you'll pin
a perfect oval of abalone, a dark-whorled
underwater sheen to lead us to work
this foggy February morning. We'll leave
your nest of brightness in the bathroom
between the mirror and the laundry-basket
where my dirty shirts sprawl like
drunks amongst your skirts and blouses. Lace-
work frills and rainbow silk pastels, your panties
foam over the plastic brim, and on the shower-rail
your beige and talc-white bras dangle by one strap
like the skinned Wicklow rabbits I remember
hanging from hooks outside the victuallers'
big windows. We've been domesticated strangely,
love, according to our lights: when you
walk by me now, naked and not quite dry
from the shower, I flatten my two hands
on your wet flank, and wonder at the tall
column of flesh you are, catching the faint
morning light that polishes you pale as
alabaster. You're warm, and stay a moment
still like that, as though we were two planets
pausing in their separate orbits, pendant,
on the point of crossing. For one pulse-stroke
they take stock of their bodies
before returning to the journey. Dressed,
you select a string of chipped amber
to hang round your neck, a pair of star-shaped
earrings, a simple ring of jet-black
lustrous onyx. Going down the stairs and
out to the fogbound street, you light my way.
~Eamon Grennan
I don't know why this seems like a Monday morning poem to me, but it does. Especially this chilly, rainy Monday morning. Possibly because the images are spun around getting ready for work? I dunno. I just know I like it.
***
So I watched a bunch of Criminal Minds episodes last night. I stayed up later than planned to watch just one more, because I couldn't stop on the one with the rats and the mob - I wouldn't have been able to stop thinking about the rats. *shudders*
I am enjoying it so far - I really do like them all, so far, and the way they work together. Plus, it's always enjoyable to watch Mandy Patinkin chew the scenery. And I really liked that moment at the end of the mob+rats episode with Hotchner and the hit man - I thought that was fairly subtle, as these types of shows go. I will keep watching and see what develops.
***
I have been queasy all morning. Meh. This is one of those days that I'd have probably called in if I weren't still a new employee.
***
[eta] Success! Including tags and icons! Well to DW and LJ. IJ isn't loading at all for me, so I have no idea if it worked over there. I will find out eventually, I suppose. [/eta]
***
Ahem.
Let's see if this works.
Today's poem:
Jewel Box
Your jewel box of white balsa strips
and bleached green Czechoslovakian rushes
stands open where you keep it shelved
in the bathroom. Morning and evening
I see you comb its seawrack tangle of shell,
stone, wood, glass, metal, bone, seed
for the bracelet, earring, necklace, brooch
or ring you need. Here's brass from Nepal,
a bangle of African ivory and chased silver
for your wrist, a twist of polished
sandalwood seeds, deep scarlet,
gleaming like the fossil tears
of some long-gone exotic bird
with ruby crest, sapphire claws. Adriatic
blue, this lapis lazuli disc will brighten
the pale of your throat, and on this small
alabaster seal-ring the phantom of light
inscribes a woman tilting an amphora, clear
as day, almost as old as Alexander. To the
ebony velvet brim of your hat you'll pin
a perfect oval of abalone, a dark-whorled
underwater sheen to lead us to work
this foggy February morning. We'll leave
your nest of brightness in the bathroom
between the mirror and the laundry-basket
where my dirty shirts sprawl like
drunks amongst your skirts and blouses. Lace-
work frills and rainbow silk pastels, your panties
foam over the plastic brim, and on the shower-rail
your beige and talc-white bras dangle by one strap
like the skinned Wicklow rabbits I remember
hanging from hooks outside the victuallers'
big windows. We've been domesticated strangely,
love, according to our lights: when you
walk by me now, naked and not quite dry
from the shower, I flatten my two hands
on your wet flank, and wonder at the tall
column of flesh you are, catching the faint
morning light that polishes you pale as
alabaster. You're warm, and stay a moment
still like that, as though we were two planets
pausing in their separate orbits, pendant,
on the point of crossing. For one pulse-stroke
they take stock of their bodies
before returning to the journey. Dressed,
you select a string of chipped amber
to hang round your neck, a pair of star-shaped
earrings, a simple ring of jet-black
lustrous onyx. Going down the stairs and
out to the fogbound street, you light my way.
~Eamon Grennan
I don't know why this seems like a Monday morning poem to me, but it does. Especially this chilly, rainy Monday morning. Possibly because the images are spun around getting ready for work? I dunno. I just know I like it.
***
So I watched a bunch of Criminal Minds episodes last night. I stayed up later than planned to watch just one more, because I couldn't stop on the one with the rats and the mob - I wouldn't have been able to stop thinking about the rats. *shudders*
I am enjoying it so far - I really do like them all, so far, and the way they work together. Plus, it's always enjoyable to watch Mandy Patinkin chew the scenery. And I really liked that moment at the end of the mob+rats episode with Hotchner and the hit man - I thought that was fairly subtle, as these types of shows go. I will keep watching and see what develops.
***
I have been queasy all morning. Meh. This is one of those days that I'd have probably called in if I weren't still a new employee.
***
[eta] Success! Including tags and icons! Well to DW and LJ. IJ isn't loading at all for me, so I have no idea if it worked over there. I will find out eventually, I suppose. [/eta]
***