In the shower my hair goes molten
liquid against my neck and shoulders
liquid against loamy curves of battered clay
with its igneous flaws and bulges
but my belly is still a radial tire
whose valve sucks and puckers
pulling the entire chassis to one side at speed
going warm and soft
when still
In the shower my back is a blown vase
spine fluting under the spray glowing red
each vertebrae an ember glowing red
but my belly is still a milk-fed melon on the vine
smelling of sugar and soil and green green rot
even half a summer away
from being man-handled home
* * *
As you can see from my first May Day poem, I'm giving myself a lot of leeway these days...which in purely logistical terms means that I've set myself the rather breezy schedule of posting here three days a week during the month of May.
I'm aiming for Mondays / Wednesdays / Fridays at this point.
Of late, I've been working on poems about my neighbourhood, about trains and storms and early morning demolitions. I've also been working on a series about being knocked up, mostly because it seems like a more legitimate form of complaining than, well, complaining.
Other than that, you should know that I'm from Winnipeg and that this is my third on-line poetry project.
2 comments:
Ariel, I really like the image of "my back is a blown vase/
spine fluting under the spray". Majestic, yet delicate.
Great title! Love analogy of a "radial tire/ whose valve sucks and puckers/ pulling the chassis to one side at speed."
Thought for later: if you wanted to expand on these two analogies, and add different ones, there's room for a series of mini poems under the same title. just a thought...
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