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Monday, October 26, 2009

theophany

this poem is about the boy who broke my heart.








watching the yard from my backdoor
i noticed my gardenia had
yellowed. flicking my cigarette
to a pile nearby i stepped
closer for a better look. looking
at the base i saw a weed in
the pot. touching the withered
petals i became sad. feeling
desperate i yanked the weed from
the soil.

unfortunately the roots of both had gotten tangled underground.
due to my neglect and preoccupation with theophany.
i held the weed in my hand and the gardenia dangled from its roots.
some dirt got on my shoe.

reacting intuitively i ripped the
plants apart. gasping with surprise
i heard some organs crunch. holding
back tears i realized my gardenia
had died. dropping the plants on the
ground i wiped my hands of debris. seeing
her damaged i went back inside. wanting
to simplify my life i decided to
leave her out there.

unfortunately her death robbed me of my only ally.
i didn't realize it at the time.
i will join her again someday in dust and mud.
my gardenia.
and i. 


pure and white petals like
windmills on warm

june nights
bugs are biting my skin but
i remember you still felt nice.

6 footnotes:

Amy said...

I cried.
Beautiful writing comes from ugly. It's no comfort.


"reacting intuitively i ripped the
plants apart."

This is the worst it gets.
"You're never alone if you have your friends, and I know you do." -Erik Skov

Adam said...

hmmm, you were oddly present in my early morning dream.

Anonymous said...

made me cry. know how you feel.
love you,
your sister

Kelley said...

AmyO: I struggled in choosing between "intuitively" and "impulsively" for the sentence. The decision to use the former assigns a certain fatalism - while paradoxically giving me some control, if only in words. The termination of this "relationship" was described to me as impulsive, which I refuse to believe. The lazy gardener isn't subservient to chance; rather, he tends to his flowers like he tends to everything in his life - with little thought.

Adam: Unfortunately the name Adam has been quite prevalent in my life. Are you the Adam who sat behind me in class today and peruses "War and Peace" with a side of brandy? The Adam who in late 2008 worked on a collage on his living room floor while I read Umberto Eco? Or the Adam who shares with me the first experience of romantic love, in the basement of your sister's house, listening to Sonic Youth, over half a decade ago? Feel free to not answer; silence creates the meaning certitude extinguishes. Anyway, I hope my intrusion of your subconscious was a pleasant one.

And to my sister, the uncanny continuity of our emotional lives baffles me, yet the knowledge that the person who knows me best in the world is experiencing the same sort of shame and dejection comforts me more than any words, any amount of time. i love you.





to anyone else reading this: I hope you don't find my outlandish vulnerability and honesty offensive or egoistic. The fact that I need to qualify my intentions should suffice as evidence enough of my genuine fragility.

Not Adam said...

i take offense to your genuine fragility. you can never be outlandish. its true that one can miss what one can't have. in my dreams i chase you, infinitely.

Bowie said...

I'm not running away.