Sorrow
Ungodly Hour: The Fray
Time stained envelopes
Flour dusted hands
Thin socks, scarves
Light bags, heavy hearts.
The letters came and
were returned. Life in ink,
beauty in paper, people
in words. I miss them.
To do things, and fill cravings,
I bake: lemon pound cake,
brownies, batches of cookies.
They stale on the counter.
My clothing and spirit thin.
Wearing the uniform, following
routine, wears down my soles:
wears down my soul.
My suitcase sits empty,
future journals empty. The strings
of my heart are pulled tight,
stuffed with decaying futures.
Pretend you didn't know what this was kind of about. Assume it came out of my brain because i'm listening to a beautiful, sorrowful piece of mastery by the fray, and not because i'm anxious, or awaiting letters. : - )
BTW, i emailed the fantastic anna king, and she said that letters were to be mailed first week of april. so we can relax a bit, for now. : - )
emilea
her bag is not much heavier, i wish that i could carry her, but this our ungodly hour.
2 comments:
*uses her notable acting talents to make pretend clueless face at emilea* What do you mean, know what it's about? Pssh.
What I do know is that it's lovely. The images are beautiful, every word is perfectly chosen. I love the wordplay in the fourth stanza.
My favorite bits:
To do things, and fill cravings,
I bake: lemon pound cake,
brownies, batches of cookies.
They stale on the counter.
and
The strings
of my heart are pulled tight,
stuffed with decaying futures.
Just... pure... you. In the way that makes me jealous because I could never achieve this kind of perfection. This poem is so beautiful in it's brokenness; so sad; so (i'm goint to stop pretending now) summing up everything that I'm feeling about the first week of april, and the weeks and the years to follow.
and it's wonderful.
wish you were here
Caroline
PS: I NEED THE NEW FRAY CD!!!!!! *ack*!
Your voice is ever gentle and expectant, Emilea. The comparisons and parallels between the physical and the spiritual are evident and clever and fun to realize.
Like Caroline, my favorite stanza is the one where you're baking. It's a beautiful little detail that helps make this poem.
I also like that while it's detailed and domestic, we can also tell that your mind is elsewhere while you are doing these things.
But why are the futures decaying? Is that you imagining a worst case scenario? That one word confused me.
Again, wonderful poem. I can't wait to read more.
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