Signs of Him
New streaks of cloud
in her thinning brown
mane. Translucent wrinkles
etch & trickle across
the skinmap of her arms
& hands. The red maple
grows a foot & mid-sized
boulders tumble unpredictably
from rockface, becoming
scree. When the moon
glows like a soup
spoon Sarah lays down
her loneliness & summons
the lover slaughtered
in Viet Nam—Easter
Offensive, 1972. She craves
him, recalls the brush
of his barely-grown
beard on her neckbone. Signals
accumulate —an old-growth
poplar felled by lightning, giant
oak blown over the creek
by a Nor’easter. At the hour
of owlspeak—& just before
moonset—she’s certain
she can hear his bluesharp wailing.
20 thoughts on "Signs of Him"
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I love how every detail, from her aging, to nature, points to him. This poem was so tender and wistful. What a way to wake up to another one of your amazing works.
Thank you, Manny. It’s funny what comes to you poetically in the middle of the night.
I like these compound words you’re creating here—owlspeak, etc. You’re doing that more these days, you mythologist.
I’m in some kind of new phase. Poetry is less crowded or something like that.
It certainly has a sparse quality these days. I’m enamored of it. You’ve been reading the Chinese, I see.
Living in the country helps too.
wonderful collision of
wordmash stew.
lots to unpack-
great linebreaks too.
Lovely and heartbreaking.
This is hauntingly beautiful, Linda. I love the denseness and the compound words, also the strong verbs. Listening to your middle-of-the-night voice is working!!
What a story! Very nice, thanks for sharing
The moon glowing like a soup spoon – and here she comes to gently stir and take from the bowl of memory. I felt like I was there too.
In our memory, those who know, know
That ending: “she can hear his bluesharp wailing.” Stunning.
Such melancholy, such longing. Beautiful!
each stanza also calls attention to itself by its musicality
Achingly beautiful. My favorite line:
“recalls the brush
of his barely-grown
beard on her neckbone”
The rhythm, the way the consonants bounce off each other. Nice!
When the moon //glows like a soup /spoon!
Such strong images!
So beautiful…the lines “recalls the brush
of his barely-grown/beard on her neckbone” gave me chills.
Skinmap.
You hooked me at skinmap. Your compounded words are a sharp delight. Thank you for writing this.
When that maple grew a “foot”-it felt achy and telling. Great connections here!