On the day that we married
A cold
Wind
Stole between my thighs
And whispered
These words:
They make you a wife
They extinguish
The small cries
Those telling
Involuntary acts
The shudders and soft places
Only you know
Only you share,
Begin to share, with this man.
No matter how you try
What you do,
You will bear the burden of blame
As he loses his way,
His waistline
His youth
His hair his hopes
His dreams
And he will scatter his seed
On the wind
And you will bear the brunt of it
And while he may be grateful
He will never
Begin
To comprehend the depth of lost desire
The hunger of your secret self
To fill, be full,
To touch be touched to feel to breathe
To cry aloud
The joy of being alive to come
Alive
To come
Your whole self craving in one moment
This convulsion
Such compulsion
Generation
Want
Desire.
And he will grow weary of the burden
Of touch
Of caring
Of trying
And when that moment comes
He will tell himself that all you are
To him
Is meatloaf,
All you can do, can feel, can reach
Is meatloaf,
And what he wants is steak.
And he will feel guilty
And secretly blame
But never understand
This mutual bereavement
And if you do not run now
Fly, now,
Forget these wifely expectations
And abandon yourself to the possibility
Of love beyond the pale
One day you will awaken
On a grey grey morning
And find that meatloaf
Is all of him
You can recall.
Author notes
For Dave Ochs: a riposte to Death to the Infidels
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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one of my favorite poems ever
I'm not sure what kind of review I could give for this, save for emphasis on how ridiculously brilliant this poem is. Others have said what I could say best. You've captured this unique pain in a near eternal sense - this is the kind of writing that I've always tried to strive for, but lack the experience and wisdom to fully expand on. Thank you for writing this so honestly. -
This hit hards!
I have not read a poem so packed with emotion as this for a while now. It is that sadness, that bitter reality of things among married couples that overflows from this. The point of view you chose makes this even more painful. Its brutal in description and yet the chosen imagery is what made this poem work so well. It almost felt like litany, as i read through it...slowly building up and repeating one same message: "Don't go through with it." Every line a confirmation to re-think, re-evaluate a decision. This is packed and tight. Powerful read and i think all the others agree.
-iphios -
I read this a while ago
and have been reflecting on it in marvel ever since. You are a powerful person and feel very deeply and express that depth beautifully. If this were a picture I could jump inside and live there. This is incredibly powerful with emotion that grabs me by the neck and shakes me like a rag-doll. Powerful.
Al
language: 5, rhythm: 4, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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In just one poem
Your poem has exposed the secret self of womankind. How many women have locked themselves in the washroom an hour before marriage feeling exactly what your poem so perfectly explains, unable to find the words for their panic and fear. If only they had this poem to slip under the door as a parting gift for the groom as they climbed veil and all out the little washroom window and fled in horror from marriage.
Please do not think I take these sentiments lightly. You have really captured this moment in a woman's life perfectly.
I wrote in a poem from my much younger days, of the desire to chop up my husband throw him in a blender and serve him as liver pate at a gala I would throw for our next anniversery. This only in the light of men as meat dishes.
He will never
Begin
To comprehend the depth of lost desire
The hunger of your secret self
To fill, be full,
These lines move me beyond belief.
I am going to the land of arranged marriages. Can you imagine not having the free will to even make the decision to back out.
Eosmia
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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Eosmia
- Men as meat dishes... "meet" dishes? That's a pun for sure... What is possible between men and women fascinates me, the unexplored territory, the potential, the illusion and then the failure to connect, and then, somehow, that other possibility. If we can imagine it, perhaps it isn't just an idea. But I try not to live in hope...best to you
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hey riveralex
to ispire a poem especially a great as this is a high compliement. like windover says this hits hard, and its not pointing the finger merely pointing out what happens as people age and maybe become dead to each other. profound and sad i can't say enough.
dave -
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Thanks Dave.. but really I should thank you
for moving me to writing it, your keen and funny and sad observations, so accurate, the hero's need - for he is a hero - his rationalisations, guilt, love... mine ended up a little darker but hey, I like the dark side. But not always best...
regards
A
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Jesus you hit hard with this River. I read it on Professor Ochs' page and had to look you up. I love the flow of consciousness feel of it. It flows with vitriol and it never strays from the point or rambles. It has grand aspirations and reaches for them agilely (I particularly liked
'Forget these wifely expectations
And abandon yourself to the possibility
Of love beyond the pale'
In fact the whole last stanza was very strong and rounded it all off very adeptly indeed. Very impressed. >W<
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Windhover
Glad you liked it - great to meet you, I found your work really exciting too and look forward to many more exchanges - best wishes
Alex
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