monday poem #102: Eric Leigh, "Harm's Way"
One of the delights of May, for me, is the announcement of the winners of the Discovery/The Nation Poetry Prize, an annual contest for poets whose work has not been published previously in book form; a number of past winners have subsequently put out books I've liked, so the announcement always gives me some names to add to my "to look for" list.
Eric Leigh is definitely, definitely going on the list. This particular poem broke my heart in the third stanza and then put it back together again in the final lines.
Harm's Way
I've brought you here, to the base of the great tower
where you can see the two bridges that hold this city
and imagine the places they might take you,
because I believe in staging and the prop of the moon.
Because I want this evening to be aria,
the eye of the storm where the lead actor turns
to face the crowd and comes clean with what he knows.
But sometimes there's no music in the truth.
Especially right now, with me about to break
your heart and possibly my own. Soon, certain words
will turn me into cell counts, the roulette wheel
of the centrifuge spinning quietly in your head.
So I stall with small talk, how the tower was built
for those who fought the flames of the great quake.
Now tourists pay ten bucks a head for a view
those firemen never knew. I rail on
until you place your hand against my chest,
the same spot my mother always touched,
every time she slammed the brakes,
her arm flying out in front of me to hold me back,
no matter the seat belt around my waist.
"I never think," she always said, "my arm just goes..."
her voice trailing off into a quiet where the best part
of us resides. Some sentences cannot be finished,
others can barely be started. As I say the words,
I am steeled for the way that your eyes widen,
how your lips part and your jaw goes slack.
But for all of my rehearsal, I never thought you might,
in the shadow of the monument built for those
who were once lost, take my face in your hands
and reclaim me with a kiss, house lights
in the distance being darkened one by one.
- Eric Leigh
Eric Leigh is definitely, definitely going on the list. This particular poem broke my heart in the third stanza and then put it back together again in the final lines.
Harm's Way
I've brought you here, to the base of the great tower
where you can see the two bridges that hold this city
and imagine the places they might take you,
because I believe in staging and the prop of the moon.
Because I want this evening to be aria,
the eye of the storm where the lead actor turns
to face the crowd and comes clean with what he knows.
But sometimes there's no music in the truth.
Especially right now, with me about to break
your heart and possibly my own. Soon, certain words
will turn me into cell counts, the roulette wheel
of the centrifuge spinning quietly in your head.
So I stall with small talk, how the tower was built
for those who fought the flames of the great quake.
Now tourists pay ten bucks a head for a view
those firemen never knew. I rail on
until you place your hand against my chest,
the same spot my mother always touched,
every time she slammed the brakes,
her arm flying out in front of me to hold me back,
no matter the seat belt around my waist.
"I never think," she always said, "my arm just goes..."
her voice trailing off into a quiet where the best part
of us resides. Some sentences cannot be finished,
others can barely be started. As I say the words,
I am steeled for the way that your eyes widen,
how your lips part and your jaw goes slack.
But for all of my rehearsal, I never thought you might,
in the shadow of the monument built for those
who were once lost, take my face in your hands
and reclaim me with a kiss, house lights
in the distance being darkened one by one.
- Eric Leigh