Poetry Corner – “Four [In the Deep]”

Once upon a time, a young woman and a young man met beneath a sky of moving stars–

Pfft…I don’t want to begin that way. I’d rather be simple and direct.

On February 14, 2012,  I awoke at 4 a.m. not able to sleep. It was Valentine’s Day; I had the itch to write something for my beloved (at the time). It was only the second time I had showed him something I had written, and I was scared that it was too saccharine, too long, too whatever. I worked all day and tried to put it out of my mind. When I had built up the nerve to check my messages, I learned that my fear was unfounded. I was a better writer than I thought.

It’s a little hard to post this. The memories are bittersweet and it makes me feel a little vulnerable. But that’s what time is for, right? To make us wiser and impervious. However, after I sent this to him, he shared it with his friends. So why shouldn’t I?

By the way, the singer referenced in this poem is…well, never mind. I think you’re smart enough to figure it out. 🙂

_____

“Four [In the Deep]”

To Jeffrey
What happens when I am alone and can’t sleep? Drivel, apparently.

A soulful voice echoes in out of the dark–
a conflagration of the chest she declares–
and you and I are enthralled. (Mostly me.)
The journey begins on that rolling note;
It first hiccups over marriages of dichotomy–
You, reveling in the bold; me, cautious
while begging for space and time to grow–
Until we find ourselves face-to-face.
You hold the map, I blithely follow
As you show me the way through my own–
My personal Magellan. (Sort of has a ring, yes?)
The world takes on new dimension
As my knowledge expands with you at the helm.

The soundtrack gently ebbs–your tunes
in the background–as something forms
From our mutual attraction. What to call it?
Too precious to be a lark and damned
If I am the one to utter that swishy roll
of twelve letters. The kiss of death! Ah, maybe.
Suddenly, we are entrenched in one another–
Your fingertips grace my loathed skin
While I watch in wonder; fascinated you are–
To me my dermis is no work of art, riddled
With flaws a younger self inflicted heedlessly.
Yet, still you stroke and show me a Life Aquatic–
Smitten am I, as I don’t worry over my hair.

In my blood you have assimilated with the normal–
Life falters within parameters that don’t include you.
We go in circles, lost then found, here then gone.
I claim befuddlement, but in my musing
Thucydides whacks me in the back of the head–
Yes, with the obvious!–as he would say in our vernacular, “Duh!”
Hindsight is a great teacher, but you defy
Ghosts that whisper of things past;
I am armed with expectation–you, however
Brandish a battle axe for these occasions.
Afterwards I feel like a downed pole,
Dizzy from the jarring collision with Planet Earth
But steadied, ready for anything in your embrace.

Despite the danger, I cannot quit you. She belts
And my heart quivers, my own hands itch
To touch and leave you in wonder–yes, my turn.
The delightful expanse of you holds
The same allure as an unplucked chord–
Wouldn’t you too like to make it thrum?
If I had my way, you would hear me croon
A siren’s song and too be stirred beyond logic.
If I had my way, I could press an ear to you
And hear myself humming under your skin.
I am wary of puppet strings, but to leave
A mark?–yes, a heady thrill indeed.

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