I still miss you.
Holding your hand on the damp subway platform
And hearing the clack of your heels.
Never loved a woman that way before.
Never felt so overprotective, stupid, naïve
Before I spied you, post- interview, face a mess.
I can smell the piss and hear the hiss
Of the air brakes.
I turn without looking and leave.
I leave for what I know,
Where I can see the ground
Before my foot can land.
----
My first fiction piece is the subject of this poem, inspired by the title of Love and Rockets' "Haunted (When the Minutes Drag)."
A very vivid poem depicting intense emotions! Love the flow of the lines as well :D
ReplyDeletexoxo
I like the description here and how the time frame seems to shift, very active poem.
ReplyDeleteI really like the last four lines. They seem like sanity out of madness.
ReplyDeleteOthers are already saying it, but this... It's almost tangible in its reality somehow, engaging all the senses at once. And very intriguing! Wonderful!
ReplyDeleteThis certainly evokes the emotions and sensations of a moment that remains trapped in memory.
ReplyDeleteOh, so you've always been this brilliant. Some people got it, my friend. And you certainly do!
ReplyDeleteThose last two lines leave an echo effect! Excellent work.
ReplyDeleteThis is really vivid and your closing is brilliant - turning back to where one can feel the ground under one's feet - but remaining haunted by what it might have been like to take the leap? Been there, my friend. Too many times.
ReplyDeleteI leave for what I know ~~ might be fun to take the road less traveled? Smiles.
ReplyDeleteMysterious and heady... it has to be said, the word "piss" really enhances the mood here. Really!
ReplyDeleteYes, those hauntings... Great writing.
ReplyDeleteYes, I agree with Marian, the word "piss" gives it that smack of reality. Those last three lines are fantastic. Sometimes clinging to what we know and where we will land is exactly what we need.
ReplyDeleteI love piss and hiss! This poem haunts in all the right ways~
ReplyDeletenow I need to find your fiction... ~
ReplyDeleteWhat I love best--I think--about this poem is the contrast between the subject (love) and the setting (the underground). It puts me in mind of the great Leonard Cohen lyric "Queen Victoria, I am cold and rainy/ I am as dirty as a glass roof in a train station/ I want ornaments on everything/ because my love she gone with other boys". What is more prosaic, dirtier, less protected of a space than your setting here, and what is more precious, more rare (at least to the lover who is IN love) than love and the beloved? The shift from devotion to pragmatism is jolting and so effective.
ReplyDeleteThis may be my all time favorite comment. Well-penned and- thank you, Shay
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