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Between Families Between Families
reviews: 5
ratings: 8 (avg rating 4.75)

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Team Poetry- "Dying in Parts"

I wrote an original rough draft of the poem below, then got extremely frustrated trying to edit it. I decided it would be fun to ask my friend Gina to edit it since it had some portions I really liked but was sick of it and it kept looking at me and saying "Fix me. Make me cool." I got mad, gave up, and emailed her.

She countered with a proposal: We both edit it and post our versions at the same time. I liked the idea and agreed. Oh, and I'm bad at saying no to people I really like and respect.

So check hers out too. She's the nicest, edgy, smokin hot, badass Librarian you ever did meet. Plus her blog is awesome. GRRB
She's also always on the Blog List on the right hand side of my blog. Hers is called "If it were up to me..."

Also feel free to steal a part and write your own version. Only rule is you have to link to mine and Gina's sites if you post your own.


Dying in Parts

"You're disappearing"
Her mother scowls, creases deepening.
Really? With all the space,
her hunger takes up?
in her bed, with her marriage
it surrounds her whenever he tries
to caress her stomach
once full of happiness
eating such a joy
before her body failed her
some days she can eat
doesn't that count?
apparently not high enough
her doctor tells her she could die
her organs are failing
nails tearing
leaves withering
hair falling out
but maybe she's deciduous
dying in parts
inside, waiting for a better season
to feast on nutrients
pouring her way
a better time
to green and bloom
her trunk's still strong
even if bark flakes off

"You're disappearing!
Just look at your arms:
nothing but skin and bones."
But how busy her arms are!
holding the image of first death
her piano
notes staccato on her tongue

remember the day it fell?
down the balcony
when they were moving into their first house
the sound rang in her ribs
and her hallways
The space that sound took up!
She tried stringing a banjo
with the strings
she should've wound around her neck
but they were too thick

just like the root beer
she tried to eat
I mean eat
She lifted the bottle to her mouth
eyed the brown glass
and bit the neck
right through
and the shards
squeaked against her teeth
blood from her gums
stung sonatas in her mouth
tasting so much space
and time
and memory
where she now spent her time
She swallowed
Did they tell you?
The scar tissue wound round her mind

She begged him to photograph her
nude across the remains
of her childhood love
the black and white keys
that sent her crisp meaning
to a weary heart
but he didn't hear

so she pictured herself
How much space that picture took up!
in her mind
sprawled across wood shards
and felt-covered hammers
her hair splayed across her breast
her legs reaching for pedals
that no longer dampen
or lengthen
the sound of her thoughts
I guess that's what its like
dying in parts

2 comments:

Gina said...

1) I am positively melting from all the sugar you gave me.
2) Your poem left me breathless. It's so beautiful. The imagery of a nude woman lying on the broken piano won't leave me.
3) When you're ready for another round, let me know!
4) xoxo

Anonymous said...

She’s Disappearing

Broken Hopes and Plans

And Dying in Parts