Joseph Brodsky’s Woman
These nights we meet again in your afterthought.
You dreamed I was pregnant, a longing
faceless and nameless, the imaginary offspring
of regretful past and monotonous present.
In the secret stairwell of your mind,
we fumble in experience: your one hand
grazing light switch reality, the other
pinching pouty nipple, a cherry
waiting far too many nights to be plucked.
Our vows lay unrestored even in bittersweet
slivers of sleep. And only in wistful
dreams do you touch me, like man
searching for his. We are fleeting in remorse,
fluttering with curiosity (at the pluses
and minuses of your safety light). Lying
swathed in the darkness of your
mental incantations, your ruminating pen
traces breast and immortal word. What’s left
of swollen shadow becomes muddled,
a tired subject forgotten in daybreak.
Note: I always loved Joseph Brodsky's poem "On Love", and was especially intrigued by his subject, so I decided to write my own take on the woman's perspective. What do you think -- do the two pieces work together?
Hot! I was going to make you tell me the poem you came up with...hehe I like the references :D
ReplyDeleteLove Love!
the poem I made for you, caroline clementine? :P
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you like this one -- it's supposed to be romantic, but with a dark underlying dissidence. Did you read Brodsky's poem? Isn't it wonderful?
Loved reading this with you today...really sexual but serious and great tone =)
ReplyDeleteha, you are a pro now at analyzing poetry :P
ReplyDelete