As if he had been poured
in tar, he lies
on a pillow of turf
and seems to weep

the black river of himself.
The grain of his wrists
is like bog oak,
the ball of his heel

like a basalt egg.
His instep has shrunk
cold as a swan’s foot
or a wet swamp root.

His hips are the ridge
and purse of a mussel,
his spine an eel arrested
under a glisten of mud.

The head lifts,
the chin is a visor
raised above the vent
of his slashed throat

that has tanned and toughened.
The cured wound
opens inwards to a dark
elderberry place.

Who will say ‘corpse’
to his vivid cast?
Who will say ‘body’
to his opaque repose?

And his rusted hair,
a mat unlikely
as a foetus’s.
I first saw his twisted face

in a photograph,
a head and shoulder
out of the peat,
bruised like a forceps baby,

but now he lies
perfected in my memory,
down to the red horn
of his nails,

hung in the scales
with beauty and atrocity:
with the Dying Gaul
too strictly compassed

on his shield,
with the actual weight
of each hooded victim,
slashed and dumped.

As you plaited the harvest bow
You implicated the mellowed silence in you
In wheat that does not rust
But brightens as it tightens twist by twist
Into a knowable corona,
A throwaway love-knot of straw.

Hands that aged round ashplants and cane sticks
And lapped the spurs on a lifetime of game *****
Harked to their gift and worked with fine intent
Until your fingers moved somnambulant:
I tell and finger it like braille,
Gleaning the unsaid off the palpable,

And if I spy into its golden loops
I see us walk between the railway slopes
Into an evening of long grass and midges,
Blue smoke straight up, old beds and ploughs in hedges,
An auction notice on an outhouse wall--
You with a harvest bow in your lapel,

Me with the fishing rod, already homesick
For the big lift of these evenings, as your stick
Whacking the tips off weeds and bushes
Beats out of time, and beats, but flushes
Nothing: that original townland
Still tongue-tied in the straw tied by your hand.

The end of art is peace
Could be the motto of this frail device
That I have pinned up on our deal dresser--
Like a drawn snare
Slipped lately by the spirit of the corn
Yet burnished by its passage, and still warm.

drowning in emotions of deceit & despair
  you waded in taking chance we'd go under
       held my head til tiny bubbles appeared
i swallowed heart not to feel the pain
   rushing  inhales made it hard to see
    through the dizzying whirlpool of  twisted lies
          your guilt burnt my fused eyelids
i dove in the deep end of abstract remission
   only to drown in your ***** transgressions
         truth surfaced to find a lifeless repose
            repast held without honor of mourning
there was no burial, no flowers, not a tear shed
        just an empty casket that encased your heart

Butterfly haunts me
flutters by in the dark of night
when the smoke cleared
all that was left was a still photograph
no breath to be had, no words to be spoken
perched upon my mind where no one can see
all the secrets that taunt me

Left behind in in your spirit
like an erratic zephyr they twist my head
nothing sacred in how you fled the atmosphere
I oft wonder have found that freedom
as you floated from this earth
markings on the sky of colorless clues
the painted scenery still not clear
all that's left to do is exhale poetry

I fell for you like amber raindrops
burnished by the sun's satiation,
golden in my heart you will remain
our love story as sinister storm clouds,
turning sapphire skies to bleak trickles
sank in drowning pools of our own undoing
  baubles of lust dissipated on the horizon
     yet I still swim in you on dismal days*...




© 2013 Frieda P

I am

You are

Unfinished business

Remember the time
I thought I liked you
But it only lasted a week.
Remember the time
I cursed for the first time;
And it was at you.

Remember the time
I liked you for an entire year
And obsessed over you.
Remember the time
You teased me everyday.

Remember the time
We used to take piano from the same woman
And I saw you at a lesson one day.
Remember the time
You told me about the night
The black thing came to you,
Up your arm.

Remember the time
We spent backstage
Goofing off.
Remember the time
I wrote about how much I hated you
In my diary,
Everyday.

Remember the time
I dated your best friend
And you were the obligatory third wheel.
Remember the time
You threatened to punch me
Because I made fun of the girl you liked.

Remember the time
We spent during choir practice
Looking at squirrels through the window.
Remember the time
You told me
"I don't care what homeroom I have,
As long as you're not in it."

Remember the time
The stinkbug kept following your shoes
In Spanish class.
Remember the time
You threw a pinecone at me
Because I deserved it.

Remember the time
We sat together in all our classes.
Remember the time
I dreamed about you
Dying
In my front room.

Remember the time
We Skyped for three hours.
Remember the time
I beat you up
Because I was angry.

Remember the time
My two best friends started dating
Because you finally got up the courage and asked her.
Remember the time
You told me you wanted to break up with her.

Remember the time
You stole my Sharpies
Until I asked him out.
Remember the time
You broke up with her
And avoided me for a week.

Remember the time
We spent after school,
Studying for Spanish.
Remember the time
I was scared of you
But walked with you,
In silence.

Remember the time
You had a rave in class
And asked me to tape it.
Remember the time
I cut myself
And you got mad at me
And we spoke even less.

Remember the time
The algebra teacher threatened to separate us
Because we talked too much in class.
Remember the time
I messaged you
And messaged you
And you wouldn't answer.

Remember the time
You and your mum invited me to dinner.
Remember the time
I saw you for the first time
In two months
And, despite the same clothes
And hair,
You looked like a stranger.

Remember the time
You asked him out for me.
Remember the time
We Skyped for five minutes
And had nothing to say.

Remember the time
You held my hand all period
Because you were cold.
Remember the time
You told me you were insane
And we couldn't be like we used to.

Remember the time
You told me not to worry,
That we were still the same, relationship-wise.

Remember the time
You told me not to cry
But I did.

Remember the time
You held me while I sobbed,
The first time you'd ever seen me cry.

Remember the time
You assured me you'd be fine.

Remember the time
I shook while you held my hands.

Remember the time
You hugged me after class,
A week later
And I nearly cried of happiness.

Remember the times.

Do you remember the times?
Because it seems all I'm doing these days
Is remembering you.

This was an error 101
it wasn't there, the room had gone,
and me and John or John and me decided on room 103.
Or well's as well and gone that he's not here,we said over a glass of beer and how we laughed, we had 103 and 101 had gone.
But somewhere,where,out there we know,it waits and waits one day we'll go to 101,me and John or John and me
and then we'll see what scares us so.

While sleeping


Why is it mornings, so far in the distance,
flowing from beyond tempered shorelines
on lone standing bridges ~
always seem to call in the midst of a dream


When sunrise illusions now erase sleep
on meadowlark borders dotted in dew drops
built in the confines of spring
with fall fast approaching ~ featuring shadows stretched of time


Long on the porch, weathered and beaming,
tapping the front door with marching band fingers
in trumpet blares and bass drum beats ~
yet quiet in the state of mind seen through blurry eyes


Still ~ a before smile, brought about the prior evening
forces dimples once again in my cheeks
igniting the darkness with three-ring spotlights,
streaked of circus beacons on popcorn ceilings


Reminding ~ the dream I have found actually lives in my daylight,
slipping around corners and window sill gaps,
finding me on the brink of now,
stumbling my way to where I long to be ~ awake


For my dream is you,


who I so desperately miss ~ while sleeping