an emptiness murmurs
and babbles a bit
in the background
always.
a bit of possessed
silence speaks
a bit louder
when dress-forms are about,
when fabrics or yarn are mentioned.
last words of love catch
over a car,
unawares.
the rough skin of hands
on embroidery silk,
small colors, fraying
threads. time cannot move
that car from between us.
~*~*~*~
I dreamed I saw you last night.
We are in an apartment, preparing for a tasting
in the vacant apartment next door,
(a place that I have slept through before).
I remember a silver
dragon, hanging
—by a crook in its tail—
from a hook on the wall.
I arrive to teach a class, squeeze into a booth
and a woman greets me, says, “Here you are just like…
well, just like this morning.” I get situated, put a tool-kit
behind me on the back of the booth. Magpie is with me.
You arrive, very pregnant and squeeze into the booth
on the other side of Maggie and I hug you tightly, my hand
on your face. I cry hard and say, "I've missed you so much,”
and you tell me that you are free all night and I say, ”We have
a tasting.” At the same time, you say, "You have a tasting.”
A Prayer Like Gravity 
The first is a tragic death? (my interpretation at least and possibly wrong) The second about your wife & daughter – sorry I’m a little confused though – perhaps I shouldn’t try and interpret or write comments like these – but I want to learn the meaning behind them and not go off on a tangent – Erase the comment or let me know 🙂 My hand is first up as I’m still learning ~ smiles ~ To all other readers, who have understood immediately I apologise for my ignorance.
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Yes on the first. A tragic death.
The second is the dream that I had that started this whole sequence off. The “you” in the poem and the dream is not actually my wife, but my sister. The same as the tragic death.
As to being confused, well, it’s a dream so it’s not necessarily supposed “make sense.”
Not sure it does to me either.
I had already been planning on writing a little explication of this series after I post the last two tomorrow, so hopefully that will help.
There will be no erasing.
And on that note, and as to “understanding,” I’ll share one of my recent favorite quotes:
“Poems are poems because we want to listen to them. Some poems have a prominent argument; some poems don’t. But all poems live or die on their capacity to lure us from their beginnings to their ends by a pattern of sounds. This is why a poem we don’t understand may seem wonderfully satisfying, and this is why a poem we understand all too well may also seem wonderfully satisfying.”
—James Longenbach
A lot of what I love is somewhat inscrutable to me. This, I think, is as it should be.
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I think I love James – and I thank you kindly for your explanation and no erasing ~ smiles.
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these pieces speak as loudly as the silent holes speak in your writing – they are so intimate, thank you very much for sharing them
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Thank you Mark. It feels strange for me to be this “confessional” so thank you especially.
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And Yes, the silences sometimes veritably scream.
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